CHAPTER VIII. A MYSTERIOUS AFFAIR.

The Penny Whistle was a purely sensational newspaper, and all those who liked spicy articles and exaggerated details purchased it, in order to gratify their tastes. Its circulation was enormous, and its sale increased still more when the following article appeared in its columns on the Tuesday after Kitty's supper party:--

"Burglary at the House of a well-known Actress.

"We often hear accounts of great jewel robberies having taken place in London, but nothing of the kind, at least in any noticeable degree, has been perpetrated in the colonies until last Sunday night, or, to speak more exactly, Monday morning, when the house of Caprice, the well-known actress, was entered, and jewels to the amount of ￡5000 were stolen. The house in question is situated in Toorak, almost immediately on the banks of the Yarra-Yarra, and, as far as we can learn, the following are the circumstances connected with the affair:--

"On Sunday night Caprice entertained a number of friends at a supper party, and the servants all being downstairs attending to the guests, the upper part of the house was left entirely uninhabited. It is at this time, probably between twelve and one o'clock, that the burglary is supposed to have been perpetrated. The company departed about three o'clock, and on going up to her room, Caprice found the window wide open. Knowing that it had been closed, she suspected something was wrong, and went to the place where she kept her diamonds, only to find them gone. She sent at once for her servants, and an examination was made. It was found that the house had evidently been entered from the outside, as the window was not very far from the ground, and some ivy growing on the wall made a kind of natural ladder, which any man of ordinary agility could scale. Curiously enough Caprice's child, aged seven, was asleep in the room, but appears to have heard nothing. Next morning another examination was made, and it was found that the ivy was broken in several places, showing clearly the mode of entrance. The window had not been latched, as no chance of a burglary was apprehended, the house always having been looked upon as a remarkably safe one. The diamonds were usually kept in a small safe, but on returning from the theatre on Saturday night they had been placed in the drawer of the looking-glass, where they were judged to be safe, as it was not thought likely any thief would look in so unlikely a place for valuable jewellery. Below will be found a plan of the house and grounds as furnished by our special reporter, and the probable track of the burglars indicated."

House Floor Plan
Floor Plan of First and Ground Floor.

"It will be seen from this plan that the drawing-room and dining-room, in both of which the guests were assembled, are in the front of the house, so that the most likely thing is that the burglar or burglars entered the grounds by the gate, or along the banks of the river, and climbed up into the house by the window C shown on the plan.

"After securing the plunder, two modes of exit were available, either as indicated by the dotted line which would take the thief out of the gate into the road, from whence it would be easy to escape, or along the banks of the river, as shown by the other lines. In either case escape was perfectly easy. Of course the danger lay in detection while in the house, but this was considerably guarded against by the fact that the noise and laughter going on below effectually drowned all sounds of any one entering the house.

"The thief must have known that the diamonds were in the bedroom, and that a number of people would be present on Sunday night, therefore he chose a time when he would be most likely to escape detection. We believe that a detective has gone down to Toorak to make inquiries, and we have no doubt that the thief will soon be secured, as it would be impossible for such valuable jewels to be disposed of in Melbourne or other colonial cities without arousing suspicion."

It was Fenton who insisted upon a detective being employed to investigate the robbery, as, for some extraordinary reason, Kitty seemed unwilling to allow the matter to be inquired into.

The detective who accompanied Fenton to Kitty's house was known by the name of Naball, and on the retirement of Kilsip had taken his place. He was only of the age of thirty, but remarkably clever, and had already distinguished himself in several difficult cases. Detective work was a positive mania with him, and he was never so happy as when engaged on a difficult case--it had for him the same fascination as an abstruse mathematical problem would have for an enthusiastic student. To Kilsip belonged the proud honour of having discovered this genius, and it seemed as though the pupil would soon surpass the master in his wonderful instinct for unravelling criminal puzzles. Mr. Naball was an ordinary-looking young man, who always dressed fashionably, and had very little to say for himself, so that few guessed the keen astute brain that was hidden under this somewhat foppish exterior. He listened to everything said to him, and rarely ventured an opinion, but the thieves of Melbourne well knew that when "The Toff," as they called Naball, was on their track, there was very little chance of escape from punishment.

On this day when they were on their way to Toorak, Fenton was excited over the matter, and ventured all kinds of theories on the subject, while Mr. Naball smoked a cigarette, and admired the fit of his gloves.

"Do you think the thief will try and dispose of them in Melbourne?" he asked.

"Possibly," returned Naball, "if he's a born fool."

"I'm certain I know the thief," said Fenton quietly. "I told you that the man Villiers was seen about the place on the night of the robbery."

"By whom?"

"Myself and Caprice."

"Who saw him last?"

"Caprice."

"Oh," said Naball imperturbably, "then she's the best person to see on the subject."

"He's a bad lot," said Fenton; "he was mixed up in that poisoning case eight years ago."

"The Midas case?"

"Yes. Caprice, or rather Kitty Marchurst, was concerned in it also."

"So I believe," replied Naball; "every one was innocent except Jarper and Vandeloup--one was hanged, the other committed suicide. I don't see what it has to do with the present case."

"Simply this," said Fenton sharply, annoyed at the other's tone, "Villiers is a scoundrel, and wouldn't stop at robbery if he could make some money over it."

"He knew Caprice had diamonds worth five thousand?"

"Of course; every one in Melbourne knows that."

"Did he know where they were kept?"

"There's a safe in the room, and a thief, of course--"

"Would go there first--precisely--but you forget the diamonds were taken out of the drawer of her looking-glass--a most unlikely place for a thief to examine. The man who stole the jewels must have known where they were kept."

"Oh," said Fenton, and looked astonished, as he was quite unable to explain this. He was about to reply, when the train having arrived at its destination, they got out, and walked to Kitty's house.

She was in the drawing-room writing letters and looked pale and haggard, her eyes having dark circles beneath them, which told of a sleepless night. When the two men entered the room she welcomed them gracefully, and then resumed her seat as they began to talk.

"I have brought you Mr. Naball to look after this affair," said Fenton, looking at her.

"You are very kind," she replied coldly; "but, the fact is, I have not yet decided about placing it in the hands of the police."

"But the diamonds?"--began Fenton in amazement.

"Were mine," finished Kitty coolly; "and as the loss is mine, not yours, I will act as I think fit in the matter."

Then, turning her back on the discomfited Fenton, she addressed herself to the detective.

"I should like your opinion on the subject," she said graciously, "and then I will see if the case can be gone on with."

Naball, who had been keeping his keen eyes on her face the whole time, bowed.

"Tell me all the details of the robbery," he observed cautiously.

"They are simple enough," replied Kitty, folding her hands. "I bring them home from the theatre every night, and usually put them in the safe, which is in my room. On Saturday night, however, I was tired, and, I must confess, rather careless, and as the case was on my dressing-table, I placed it in the drawer of my looking-glass, to save me the trouble of going to the safe. I gave a supper party on Sunday night, and when every one had gone away, I went upstairs to bed, and found the window open; recollecting where I had put the diamonds, I opened the drawer and found them gone. My servants examined the ground beneath the window, and found footmarks on the mould of the flower-bed, so I suppose the thief must have entered by the window, stolen the jewels, and made off with them."

When she had finished, Naball remained silent for a minute, but just as Fenton was about to speak, he interposed.

"I will ask you a few questions, madame," he said thoughtfully. "When did you see the diamonds last?"

"About six o'clock on Sunday night. I opened the drawer to get something, and saw the case."

"Not the diamonds?"

"They were in the case."

"Are you sure?"

"Where else would they be?"

"Some one might have stolen them previously, and left the case there to avert suspicion."

Kitty shook her head.

"Impossible. The case is also gone besides, I locked the case on Saturday night, and had the key with me. No other key could have opened it, and had the case been forced, I would have seen it at once. See," lifting up her arm, "I always wear this bracelet, and the key is attached to it by a chain."

Naball glanced carelessly at it, and went on with his questions.

"You generally kept the diamonds in the safe?"

"Yes."

"And it was quite an oversight not placing them in there on Saturday?"

"Quite."

"No one knew they were in the drawer of your looking-glass on that particular night?"

"No one."

Here Fenton interposed.

"You get along too fast," he said quickly. "Everyone at the supper-table knew you kept them there; you said it to them yourself."

Naball glanced sharply at Kitty.

"I know I did," she replied quietly; "but I spoke as if the diamonds were always kept there, which they were not. I did not say they were in the drawer on that particular night."

"You mentioned it generally?" said Naball tranquilly.

"Yes. All the people present were my guests, and I hardly think any of them would rob me of my diamonds."

"Were any of the servants in the room when you made the remark?" said the detective slowly.

"No, none; and the door was closed."

Naball paused a moment.

"I tell you what," he said slowly, "the diamonds were stolen between six o'clock and the time you went to bed."

"About three o'clock," said Kitty.

"Precisely. You saw the diamonds last at six; they were gone by three; you mentioned where you kept them at the supper-table; now, the thief must have overheard you."

"You--you suspect my guests, sir," cried Kitty angrily.

"Certainly not," said the detective quietly; "but I suspect Villiers."

"Villiers!"

"Yes. Mr. Fenton tells me you saw him on that night."

Kitty flashed a look of anger on the American, who bore it unmoved.

"Yes, he was outside, and wanted to see me. I saw him, gave him some money, and he left."

"Then I tell you he overheard you say where you kept the diamonds, because he was hiding outside the window; so, after seeing you, he committed the robbery."

"That's what I think," said Fenton.

"You!" cried Kitty. "What have you got to do with it? I don't believe he stole them, and, whether he did or not, I'm not going to continue this case."

"You'll lose your diamonds," cried Fenton.

"That's my business," she returned, rising haughtily; "at all events, I have decided to let the matter rest, so Mr. Naball will have all his trouble for nothing. Should I desire to reopen the affair, I will let you both know. At present, good morning," and, with a sweeping bow, she turned and left the room.

Fenton stared after her in blank amazement.

"Good God! what a fool!" he cried, rising. "What's to be done now?"

Naball shrugged his shoulders.

"Nothing," he replied, "since she declines to give me power to investigate. I must throw the affair up. But," also rising, and putting on his hat, "I'd like to have a look at the ground beneath the window."

They both went out, Naball silent, and Fenton in great wrath, talking of Kitty's conduct.

"What an idiot she is!" he cried. "What is she going on in this way for?"

"I don't know."

"She must have some motive."

"Women don't require a motive for anything," said Naball, imperturbably proceeding to examine the ground under the window, through which the thief had made his exit. The flower-bed was filled with tall hollyhocks, and some of these were broken as if some heavy body had fallen from above.

"He clambered down by the ivy," murmured Naball to himself, as he bent down. "The ivy is broken here and there; the flowers are also broken, so he fell on them in a heap--probably having missed his footing. Humph! Clever man, as he did not step again on the flower-bed, but jumped from where he fell on to the grass. Humph! grass hard and rather dry; no chance of footmarks. Question is, which way did he go?"

"By the gate, of course," said Fenton impatiently.

The detective walked across the lawn to the gate, but could find no trace of footmarks, as the lawn was dry, and the footpath, leading out into the pavement of the street was asphalted.

"No; he did not go by the gate, as a man in such rags as Villiers would have been sure to be seen coming out of a private house. That would be suspicious; besides, he would have been afraid."

"Of the police?"

"Exactly; he's been in prison two or three times since his connection with the Midas case, and has got a wholesome dread of the law. No; he did not go by the gate, but by the river."

"The river!" repeated Fenton, in amazement.

Naball did not answer, but walked back to the window, then along the side of the house, turned the corner, and went down the sloping green bank which led to the river. Still he could see no footmarks. The grass ended at an iron fence, and beyond was the uncultivated vegetation, rank and unwholesome, that clothed the banks of the river. Between this and the grass, however, there was a strip of black earth, and this Naball examined carefully, but could find nothing. If Villiers had come this way, he could only have climbed the fence by first standing on this earth in order to get near enough, but apparently he had not done so.

"He did not come this way," he said, as they walked back.

"But how could he have left the place?" asked Fenton.

"By the gate."

"The gate? You said he would be afraid of the police."

"So he would, had he been doing anything wrong. Had he stolen the diamonds, he would have gone down by the bank of the river rather than chance meeting a policeman on the street."

"But what does this prove?"

"That, had he met a policeman, he could have explained everything, and referred him to Caprice as to his interview, and right to come out of the house. In a word, it proves he did not steal the diamonds."

"Then who, in Heaven's name, did?"

"I don't give an opinion unless I'm certain," said Naball deliberately; "but I'll tell you what I think. You heard Caprice say she won't go on with the case?

"Yes; I can't understand her reason."

"I can; she stole the diamonds herself."