The Diamond Cross Mystery - free ebook by Chester K. Steele

THE DIAMOND CROSS

Being a Somewhat Different Detective Story by Author of "The Mansion of Mystery," etc. International Fiction Library Cleveland New York Press Of The Commercial Bookbinding Co. Cleveland 1918...

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CHAPTER

I. The Ticking Watch II. King's Dagger III. The Fisherman IV. Spotty V. Amy's Appeal VI. Grafton's Search VII. The Colonel is Surprised VIII. The Diamond Cross IX. Indicted X. The Death Watch XI. No Alimony XII. The Odd Coin XIII. Singa Phut XIV. The Hidden Wires XV. A Dog XVI. The Colonel Wonders XVII. "A Jolly Good Fellow" XVIII. Amy's Test XIX. Word From Spotty XX. In The Shadows XXI. Swirling Waters XXII. His Last Case

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CHAPTER II

Carroll and Thong, proceeding along the lines they usually followed in cases like this, keeping to the rules which had come to them through the instructions of superior officers, and some which they had worked out for themselves, had, in a comparatively short time, ascertained the name, age and somewhat of the personal history of Mrs. Amelia Darcy, together with that of her cousin, as the detectives called him, though the relationship was not as close as that. Mrs. Darcy, who was sixty-five year

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CHAPTER III

From a little green book, which, from the evidence of its worn covers, seemed to have been much read, the tall, military-appearing occupant of a middle seat in the parlor car of the express to Colchester scanned again this passage: "And if you rove for perch with a minnow, then it is best to be alive, you sticking your hook through his back fin, or a minnow with the hook in his upper lip, and letting him swim up and down about mid-water, or a little lower, and you still keeping him about that de

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CHAPTER IV

"Well, now," observed Detective Thong, and, somehow or other, his voice sounded really cheerful, "let's see where we're at, Mr. Darcy. Have you looked over the stock all you want to?" They were in a room in the rear of the jewelry store—the city and county detectives, the reporters and James Darcy—with Policeman Mulligan on guard near the cut glass and silver gleaming in the showcases. On guard near a dark red stain in the floor, scarcely dry—it was still soaking into the wood. The body of the m

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CHAPTER V

Tinkling glasses formed a friendly rampart between Colonel Ashley and Spotty Morgan. Spotty looked narrowly and shrewdly at the detective. "I didn't expect to see you here," remarked the gunman, speaking out of the side of his mouth, with scarcely a motion of his lips—a habit acquired through long practice in preventing prison keepers from finding out that he was disobeying the rules regarding silence. "Not for a minute did I expect to run across you here, Colonel As—" "Not that name, Spotty, if

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CHAPTER VI

The funeral of Mrs. Darcy had been held, attended, as might be supposed, by a large throng of the merely curious, as well as by some of her distant kinsfolk, for she had few near ones. One of the relatives was summoned to take charge of the store and her other business affairs, for, a formal charge of murder having been made against him, James Darcy was not permitted to attend the final services, nor have anything more to do with the jewelry establishment. Harry King, now painfully sober, was li

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CHAPTER VII

"This," said Colonel Ashley to himself, as he glided rapidly along the street, "is very much like old times—very much! I never expected to do any shadowing again. What's that Walton says about man proposing and Providence disposing? Or was it Walton? I must look it up. Meanwhile—" Continuing his musing, and with a satisfied smile on his face, a smile that might indicate that the colonel was not so very much averse to giving over his fishing for the time being to take up his profession once more,

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CHAPTER VIII

"Colonel Ashley?" There was a formal, questioning note in the merchant's voice. "That is my name, yes, sir. Er—Mr. Grafton," and, as though to refresh his memory, the colonel glanced at the card on his desk. "You are a private detective?" "Yes." Mr. Grafton was evidently sparring for time. He seemed uneasy—he looked uneasy, and it required no very astute mind to know that he was uneasy—out of his element. "For all the world like a gasping fish on the bank," was the simile the colonel used. "I ha

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CHAPTER IX

"Well, Spotty, I've got to hand it to you! Certainly you did put one over on me!" "Not intentional, Colonel. So help me—not intentional!" "Well, maybe not, but I've got to hand it to you. If I didn't know that slip of mine in front of the truck was pure accident, I'd say you staged it just to make a good get-away." "I couldn't do that, Colonel." "I don't know, Spotty. You're a clever kid." "But I couldn't do that. I was on the level in saving you. You've got to give me credit for that," pleaded

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CHAPTER X

Doctor Warren, the county physician, stopping in at police headquarters, as he often did on returning from his round of private visits, to see if there were any official calls for him, encountered Detective Carroll. "Hello, Doc!" was the genial greeting, for Doctor Warren was more than a physician. He was a politician, and politics and the police were no more divorced in Colchester than elsewhere. "Seen that colonel guy to-day?" asked Carroll. "The colonel guy?" The doctor's voice showed his puz

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CHAPTER XI

"Shag!" exclaimed the colonel. "Yes, sah!" "We're going fishing tomorrow!" "Is we, Colonel? Den I s'pects yo'll want t' git—" "Get everything ready, yes. We'll go again to that place where Miss Mason found me. There's as good fish in that stream as any I didn't catch, and I want to try my luck." "Yes, sah, Colonel. But, scuse me, didn't yo, figger on doin' some detectin' an' give up fishin'?" and Shag, with the freedom of an old servant, stood looking at his master as if not quite understanding

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CHAPTER XII

Colonel Ashley fished for a time in silence, broken only by the gentle snores of Shag, farther back in the field, and by the murmur of the water. The old colored man, wrapped in a warm coat, for it was not summer yet, seemed to be enjoying his siesta when, with a suddenness that was startling in that solitude, the military detective uttered a cry of: "I've got it!" "What?" called Kenneth. "The solution to my problem?" "No! My fish!" chuckled the colonel, as he skilfully played the luckless trout

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CHAPTER XIII

Mr. Kettridge, his eyes big with unconcealed wonder as he looked at the odd coin, was eager to accost Harry King at once and demand to know whence the roysterer had obtained it. In, fact, the jeweler half arose from his chair, to approach the three swaggering men in the cafe section of the grill, when Colonel Ashley laid a restraining hand on the shoulder of his new friend. "It won't do now," he said gently. "Why not? I've got to find out how he came by that coin! It's a rare and valuable one I

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CHAPTER XIV

Donovan looked at the deputy as if about to dispute the statement. The detective even opened his lips to speak, but no sound came through them. Donovan sat down in a chair. "Do you mean—" he asked, passing his hand over his face, as though to brush away unseen cobwebs. "Do you mean that he's dead ?" "Sure," was the answer. "Croaked, I told you. Deader 'n a burned out cigarette." "Well," observed Donovan dispassionately, "that's the limit!" "I agree with you," said the colonel, and there was a cu

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CHAPTER XV

With the help of the police, and when the stricken, though not dangerously injured, girl had been taken away in the ambulance, the crowd was dispersed. It was then Colonel Ashley had a chance to speak to Mr. Kettridge. "What's all this I hear?" asked the detective. "I don't know," and the manager smiled wearily. "If you heard all of the rumors I did they would include everything from an I.W.W. plot to a combined attack by New York gunmen." "But what was it?" "Well, one of our clerks, Miss Brill,

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CHAPTER XVI

"What did that, Colonel? What devilish thing did that?" and with a trembling finger Jack Young pointed to the body of the dead dog on the floor of the detective's room. "What killed the poor brute?" "Unless I'm very much mistaken this did," was the answer in a low voice, and the colonel, with the watch still wrapped carefully in the wad of tissue paper, placed it on the table. "That ticker killed the dog? Nonsense! He didn't swallow it! He had it in his mouth, but he got it out! That couldn't ha

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CHAPTER XVII

"Well," remarked Colonel Ashley briskly to himself, "there are two or three things I've got to do, and do them right away. Which shall I tackle first? I wonder if it won't be best to have Kettridge come here and perform the autopsy on that watch," and he looked toward the closet where he had placed the one that had belonged to Singa Phut. "If I can look inside that, and see whether or not the mechanism is so obvious that Darcy must have stumbled on it when he started to repair it—if he did—then,

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CHAPTER XVIII

However it was not quite as bad as that, though Sallie Page had received a severe shock, and had been near to death. Prompt action on the part of the physician on the hospital ambulance had started her feeble heart, which had been affected by the current of electricity, to beating. This, among other things, Colonel Ashley learned when he hastened to the jewelry store from the Homestead, leaving at the latter place his trusty lieutenant, Jack Young, to look after both Larch and Harry King, neithe

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CHAPTER XIX

"Well," remarked Jack Young, as he critically observed the smoke from his cigar curling upward toward the ceiling in the colonel's hotel room, "we have our work cut out for us all right." "I should say so!" agreed Mr. Kettridge, who sat before a little table, on top of which were strewed parts of a watch. Mr. Kettridge had a jeweler's magnifying glass stuck in one eye, and it gave him a most grotesque appearance as he glanced from the wheels, springs and levers, spread out in front of him, over

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CHAPTER XX

Colonel Ashley, after a night's sleep, was about to prepare for the trip, when he thought of Darcy in jail. "I've got to send him word," he reasoned. "No, I'll let his sweetheart take it to him. It will be all the sweeter. Here, Shag!" he called. "Yes, sah, Colonel! Whut is it?" "Get me an auto, Shag—any kind of car will do. I want to take a run out to Pompey where Miss Mason lives. I won't trust the telephone, and I'll have time enough before I leave for the West. Get an auto." "Yes, sah, Colon

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CHAPTER XXI

At the little station of Pompey the colonel saw his man leave the train. For the wily fisherman to slip from the car on the other side of the track and get behind a tool shanty, was the work of but a moment, and as the train pulled out, and puffed on its way, the detective, peering around the corner of the shed, which housed a handcar and other tools of the section hands, had a glimpse of his "fish," as he facetiously termed him, standing rather irresolutely on the station platform. "Now for the

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CHAPTER XXII

Slowly the bruised and cut lips moved. Faintly came from the maimed throat a hoarse whisper. "I—did—it! I know this is the end. I'll confess everything!" Before his death, which followed soon after he had been taken from the swirling waters, Langford Larch made a complete confession, telling how he had killed Mrs. Darcy. Swiftly went the news to the jail, and later to the courthouse, whence, after a conference between the grave judge and a somewhat disappointed, though perhaps gladly so, prosecu

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