UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA LIBRARY
X000240022
LIBRARY OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA

TY
UNIVERSITT
ΟΙ
VIRGINIA
1819
PRESENTED BY
Mrs. John Ritchie

Wad
THE
DREAM DETECTIVE
Being Some Account of the Methods of Moris Klaw
BY SAX ROHMER
AUTHOR OF
pseido
"Grey Face," "Bat Wing," "The Brood of the Witch
Queen," "Dope," "Fire Tongue," "The Golden Scor-
pion," "The Green Eyes of Bast," "The Hand of
Fu-Manchu," "The Insidious Dr. Fu-Man-
chu," "The Return of Dr. Fu-Manchu,"
"Tales of Chinatown," "The Yellow
Claw," etc.
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers
213273 New York
Published by arrangement with Doubleday, Doran & Company, Inc.
Printed in U. S. A.
PR
6045
A37D7
1927
Copy I
COPYRIGHT,
1925, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE
& COMPANY. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES AT THE
COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y.
CONTENTS
FIRST EPISODE
CASE OF THE TRAGEDIES IN THE GREEK ROOM
SECOND EPISODE
PAGR
•
I
CASE OF THE POTSHERD OF ANUBIS
33
THIRD EPISODE
CASE OF THE CRUSADER'S AX
65
FOURTH EPISODE
CASE OF THE IVORY STATUE
95
FIFTH EPISODE
CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH
124
SIXTH EPISODE
CASE OF THE WHISPERING POPLARS
161
SEVENTH EPISODE
CASE OF THE CHORD IN G .
191
CONTENTS
EIGHTH EPISODE
Case of the HEADLESS MUMMIES .
NINTH EPISODE
PAGE
217
CASE OF THE HAUNTING Of Grange
247
TENTH EPISODE
CASE OF THE VEIL OF ISIS
280
THE
DREAM DETECTIVE
420
nder
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
FIRST EPISODE
CASE OF THE TRAGEDIES IN THE GREEK ROOM
W
I
HEN did Moris Klaw first appear in
London? It is a question which I am asked
sometimes and to which I reply, "To the
best of my knowledge, shortly before the commence-
ment of the strange happenings at the Menzies
Museum.'
What I know of him I have gathered from various
sources; and in these papers, which represent an
attempt to justify the methods of one frequently
accused of being an insane theorist, I propose to re-
count all the facts which have come to my knowledge.
In some few of the cases I was personally though
slightly concerned; but regard me merely as the his-
torian and on no account as the principal or even
minor character in the story. My friendship with
Martin Coram led, then, to my first meeting with
Moris Klaw-a meeting which resulted in my becom-
I
2
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
ing his biographer, inadequate though my infor-
mation unfortunately remains.
It was some three months after the appointment
of Coram to the curatorship of the Menzies Museum
that the first of a series of singular occurrences took
place there.
This occurrence befell one night in August, and the
matter was brought to my ears by Coram himself on
the following morning. I had, in fact, just taken my
seat at the breakfast table, when he walked in un-
expectedly and sank into an armchair. His dark,
clean-shaven face looked more gaunt than usual and
I saw, as he lighted the cigarette which I proffered,
that his hand shook nervously.
"There's trouble at the Museum!" he said,
abruptly. "I want you to run around."
I looked at him for a moment without replying,
and, knowing the responsibility of his position, feared
that he referred to a theft from the collection.
"Something gone?" I asked.
"No; worse!" was his reply.
"What do you mean, Coram?"
He threw the cigarette, unsmoked, into the hearth.
"You know Conway?" he said; "Conway, the night
attendant? Well-he's dead!"
I stood up from the table, my breakfast forgotten,
and stared incredulously. "Do you mean that he
died in the night?" I inquired.
"Yes. Done for, poor devil!"
TRAGEDIES IN THE GREEK ROOM 3
"What! murdered?"
"Without a doubt, Searles! He's had his neck
broken!"
I waited for no further explanatians, but, hastily
dressing, accompanied Coram to the Museum. It
consists, I should mention, of four long, rectangular
rooms, the windows of two overlooking South Graf-
ton Square, those of the third giving upon the court
that leads to the curator's private entrance, and the
fourth adjoining an enclosed garden attached to the
building. This fourth room is on the ground floor
and is entered through the hall from the Square, the
other three, containing the principal and more valu-
able exhibits, are upon the first floor and are reached
by a flight of stairs from the hall. The remainder of
the building is occupied by an office and the curator's
private apartments, and is completely shut off from
that portion open to the public, the only communi-
cating door-an iron one-being kept locked.
The room described in the catalogue as the "Greek
Room" proved to be the scene of the tragedy. This
room is one of the two overlooking the Square and
contains some of the finest items of the collection.
The Museum is not open to the public until ten
o'clock, and I found, upon arriving there, that the
only occupants of the Greek Room were the com-
missionaire on duty, two constables, a plain-clothes
officer and an inspector—that is, if I except the body
of poor Conway.
4
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
He had not been touched, but lay as he was found
by Beale, the commissionaire who took charge of the
upper rooms during the day, and, indeed, it was
patent that he was beyond medical aid. In fact,
the position of his body was so extraordinary as
almost to defy description.
There are three windows in the Greek Room, with
wall cases between, and, in the gap corresponding to
the east window and just by the door opening into
the next room, is a chair for the attendant. Conway
lay downward on the polished floor with his limbs
partly under this chair and his clenched fists thrust
straight out before him. His head, turned partially
to one side, was doubled underneath his breast in a
most dreadful manner, indisputably pointing to a
broken neck, and his commissionaire's cap lay some
distance away, under a table supporting a heavy case
of vases.
So much was revealed at a glance, and I immedi-
ately turned blankly to Coram.
"What do you make of it?" he said.
I shook my head in silence. I could scarce grasp
the reality of the thing; indeed, I was still staring
at the huddled figure when the doctor arrived. At
his request we laid the dead man flat upon the floor
to facilitate an examination, and we then saw that
he was greatly cut and bruised about the head and
face, and that his features were distorted in a most
TRAGEDIES IN THE GREEK ROOM 5
extraordinary manner, almost as though he had been
suffocated.
The doctor did not fail to notice this expression.
"Made a hard fight of it!" he said. "He must
have been in the last stages of exhaustion when his
neck was broken!"
"My dear fellow!" cried Coram, somewhat
irritably, "what do you mean when you say that
he made a hard fight? There could not possibly
have been any one else in these rooms last night!"
"Excuse me, sir!" said the inspector, "but there
certainly was something going on here. Have you
seen the glass case in the next room?"
"Glass case?" muttered Coram, running his hand
distractedly through his thick black hair. "No;
what of a glass case?"
"In here, sir,” explained the inspector, leading the
way into the adjoining apartment.
At his words, we all followed, and found that he
referred to the glass front of a wall case containing
statuettes and images of Egyptian deities. The
centre pane of this was smashed into fragments, the
broken glass strewing the floor and the shelves inside
the case.
"That looks like a struggle, sir, doesn't it?" said
the inspector.
"Heaven help us! What does it mean?" groaned
poor Coram. "Who could possibly have gained
6
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
access to the building in the night, or, having done
so, have quitted it again, when all the doors remained
locked?"
"That we must try and find out!" replied the
inspector. "Meanwhile, here are his keys. They
lay on the floor in a corner of the Greek Room."
Coram took them, mechanically. "Beale," he
said to the commissionaire, "see if any of the cases
are unlocked."
The man proceeded to go around the rooms. He
had progressed no farther than the Greek Room
when he made a discovery. "Here's the top of this
unfastened, sir!" he suddenly cried, excitedly.
We hurriedly joined him, to find that he stood
before a marble pedestal surmounted by a thick glass
case containing what Coram had frequently assured
me was the gem of the collection-the Athenean
Harp.
It was alleged to be of very ancient Greek work-
manship, and was constructed of fine gold inlaid
with jewels. It represented two reclining female
figures, their arms thrown above their heads, their
hands meeting; and the strings, several of which
were still intact, were of incredibly fine gold wire.
The instrument was said to have belonged to a
Temple of Pallas in an extremely remote age, and
at the time it was brought to light much controversy
had waged concerning its claims to authenticity,
several connoisseurs proclaiming it the work of a
TRAGEDIES IN THE GREEK ROOM
7
famous goldsmith of medieval Florence, and nothing
but a clever forgery. However, Greek or Florentine,
amazingly ancient or comparatively modern, it was
a beautiful piece of workmanship and of very great
intrinsic value, apart from its artistic worth and
unique character.
"I thought so!" said the plain-clothes man.
clever museum thief!"
"A
Coram sighed wearily. "My good fellow," he
replied, "can you explain, by any earthly hypothesis,
how a man could get into these apartments and
leave them again during the night?"
"Regarding that, sir," remarked the detective,
"there are a few questions I should like to ask you.
In the first place, at what time does the Museum
close?"
"At six o'clock in the summer."
"What do you do when the last visitor has gone?"
"Having locked the outside door, Beale, here,
thoroughly examines every room to make certain
that no one remains concealed. He next locks the
communicating doors and comes down into the hall.
It was then his custom to hand me the keys. I
gave them into poor Conway's keeping when he came
on duty at half-past six, and every hour he went
through the Museum, relocking all the doors behind
him."
"I understand that there is a tell-tale watch in
each room?"
8
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
"Yes. That in the Greek Room registers 4 A. M.,
so that it was about then that he met his death.
He had evidently opened the door communicating
with the next room-that containing the broken
glass case; but he did not touch the detector and
the door was found open this morning."
"Someone must have lain concealed there and
sprung upon him as he entered."
"Impossible! There is no other means of entrance
or exit. The three windows are iron-barred and they
have not been tampered with. Moreover, the watch
shows that he was there at three o'clock, and nothing
larger than a mouse could find shelter in the place;
there is nowhere a man could hide."
"Then the murderer followed him into the Greek
Room."
"Might I venture to point out that, had he done
so, he would have been there this morning when
Beale arrived? The door of the Greek Room was
locked and the keys were found inside upon the
floor!"
"The thief might have had a duplicate set."
"Quite impossible; but, granting the impossible,
how did he get in, since the hall door was bolted and
barred?"
"We must assume that he succeeded in concealing
himself before the Museum was closed."
"The assumption is not permissible, in view of the
fact that Beale and I both examined the rooms last
TRAGEDIES IN THE GREEK ROOM 9
night prior to handing the keys to Conway. How-
ever, again granting the impossible, how did he get
out?"
The Scotland Yard man removed his hat and
mopped his forehead with his handkerchief. "I must
say, sir, it is a very strange thing," he said; "but
how about the iron door here?"
"It leads to my own apartments. I, alone, hold
a key. It was locked."
A brief examination served to show that exit from
any of the barred windows was impossible.
"Well, sir," said the detective, "if the man had
keys he could have come down into the hall and
the lower room.'
99
"Step down and look," was Coram's invitation.
The windows of the room on the ground floor were
also heavily protected, and it was easy to see that
none of them had been opened.
"Upon my word," exclaimed the inspector, "it's
uncanny! He couldn't have gone out by the hall
door, because you say it was bolted and barred on
the inside."
"It was," replied Coram.
"One moment, sir," interrupted the plain-clothes
"If that was so, how did you get in this morn-
man.
ing?"
"It was Beale's custom," said Coram, "to come
around by the private entrance to my apartments.
We then entered the Museum together by the iron
IO
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
door into the Greek Room and relieved Conway of
the keys. There are several little matters to be
attended to in the morning before admitting the
public, and the other door is never unlocked before
ten o'clock."
"Did you lock the door behind you when you came
through this morning?"
"Immediately on finding poor Conway."
"Could any one have come through this door in the
night, provided he had a duplicate key?"
"No. There is a bolt on the private side."
"And you were in your rooms all last night?"
"From twelve o'clock, yes."
The police looked at one another silently; then
the inspector gave an embarrassed laugh. "Frankly,
sir," he said, "I'm completely puzzled!"
We passed upstairs again and Coram turned to
the doctor. "Anything else to report about poor
Conway?" he asked.
"His face is all cut by the broken glass and he
seems to have had a desperate struggle, although,
curiously enough, his body bears no other marks of
violence. The direct cause of death was, of course,
a broken neck."
"And how should you think he came by it?"
"I should say that he was hurled upon the floor
by an opponent possessing more than ordinary
strength!"
TRAGEDIES IN THE GREEK ROOM II
Thus the physician, and was about to depart when
there came a knocking upon the iron door.
"It is Hilda," said Coram, slipping the key in
the lock-"my daughter," he added, turning to the
detective.
II
The heavy door swinging open, there entered Hilda
Coram, a slim, classical figure, with the regular
features of her father and the pale gold hair of her
dead mother. She looked unwell, and stared about
her apprehensively.
"Good morning, Mr. Searles," she greeted me.
"Is it not dreadful about poor Conway!"-and then
glanced at Coram. I saw that she held a card in
her hand. "Father, there is such a singular old man
asking to see you.'
""
She handed the card to Coram, who in turn passed
it to me. It was that of Douglas Glade of the Daily
Cable, and had written upon it in Glade's hand the
words, "To introduce Mr. Moris Klaw."
"I suppose it is all right if Mr. Glade vouches for
him," said Coram. "But does anybody here know
Moris Klaw?"
"I do," replied the Scotland Yard man, smiling
shortly. "He's an antique dealer or something of
the kind; got a ramshackle old place by Wapping
Old Stairs-sort of a cross between Jamrach's and
12
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
a rag shop. He's lately been hanging about the
Central Criminal Court a lot. Seems to fancy his
luck as an amateur investigator. He's certainly
smart," he added, grudgingly, "but cranky."
“Ask Mr. Klaw to come through, Hilda," said
Coram.
Shortly afterward entered a strange figure. It
was that of a tall man who stooped, so that his ap-
parent height was diminished-a very old man who
carried his many years lightly, or a younger man
prematurely aged; none could say which. His skin
had the hue of dirty vellum, and his hair, his shaggy
brows, his scanty beard were so toneless as to defy
classification in terms of colour. He wore an archaic
brown bowler, smart, gold-rimmed pince-nez, and a
black silk muffler. A long, caped black cloak com-
pletely enveloped the stooping figure; from beneath
its mud-spattered edge peeped long-toed continental
boots.
He removed his hat.
"Good morning, Mr. Coram," he said. His voice
reminded me of the distant rumbling of empty casks;
his accent was wholly indescribable. "Good morn-
ing" (to the detective), "Mr. Grimsby. Good
morning, Mr. Searles. Your friend, Mr. Glade, tells
me I shall find you here. Good morning, Inspector.
To Miss Coram I already have said good morning.'
From the lining of the flat-topped hat he took out
one of those small cylindrical scent sprays and played
TRAGEDIES IN THE GREEK ROOM 13
its contents upon his high, bald brow. An odour of
verbena filled the air. He replaced the spray in the
hat, the hat upon his scantily thatched crown.
"There is here a smell of dead men!" he explained.
I turned aside to hide my smiles, so grotesque was
my first impression of the amazing individual known
as Moris Klaw.
"Mr. Coram," he continued, "I am an old fool
who sometimes has wise dreams. Crime has been
the hobby of a busy life. I have seen crime upon
the Gold Coast, where the black fever it danced in
the air above the murdered one like a lingering
soul, and I have seen blood flow in Arctic Lapland,
where it was frozen up into red ice almost before it
left the veins. Have I your permit to see if I can
help?"
All of us, the police included, were strangely im-
pressed now.
"Certainly," said Coram; "will you step this
way?"
Moris Klaw bent over the dead man.
"You have moved him!" he said, sharply.
It was explained that this had been for the purpose
of a medical examination. He nodded absently.
With the aid of a large magnifying glass he was
scrutinizing poor Conway. He examined his hair,
his eyes, his hands, his fingernails. He rubbed long,
flexible fingers upon the floor beside the body--and
sniffed at the dust.
14
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
"Someone so kindly will tell me all about it," he
said, turning out the dead man's pockets.
Coram briefly recounted much of the foregoing,
and replied to the oddly chosen questions which from
time to time Moris Klaw put to him. Throughout
the duologue, the singular old man conducted a de-
tailed search of every square inch, I think, of the
Greek Room. Before the case containing the harp
he stood, peering.
"It is here that the trouble centres," he muttered.
"What do I know of such a Grecian instrument?
Let me think."
He threw back his head, closing his eyes.
"Such valuable curios," he rumbled, "have his-
tories and the crimes they occasion operate in
cycles." He waved his hand in a slow circle. "If
I but knew the history of this harp! Mr. Coram!"
He glanced toward my friend.
"Thoughts are things, Mr. Coram. If I might
spend a night here upon the very spot of floor
where the poor Conway fell-I could from the sur-
rounding atmosphere (it is a sensitive plate) recover
a picture of the thing in his mind"-indicating Con-
way-"at the last!"
The Scotland Yard man blew down his nose.
"You snort, my friend," said Moris Klaw, turning
upon him. "You would snort less if you had waked
screaming, out in the desert; screaming out with fear
of the dripping beaks of the vultures-the last dread-
TRAGEDIES IN THE GREEK ROOM 15
ful fear which the mind had known of him who had
died of thirst upon that haunted spot!"
The words and the manner of their delivery thrilled
us all.
"What is it," continued the weird old man, “but
the odic force, the ether-say it how you please-
which carries the wireless message, the lightning?
It is a huge, subtile, sensitive plate. Inspiration,
what you call bad luck and good luck-all are but
reflections from it. The supreme thought preceding
death is imprinted on the surrounding atmosphere
like a photograph. I have trained this"-he tapped
his brow―"to reproduce those photographs! May I
sleep here to-night, Mr. Coram?”
Somewhere beneath the ramshackle exterior we
had caught a glimpse of a man of power. From
behind the thick pebbles momentarily had shone out
the light of a tremendous and original mind.
"I should be most glad of your assistance,"
answered my friend.
"No police must be here to-night," rumbled Moris
Klaw. "No heavy-footed constables, filling the
room with thoughts of large cooks and small Basses,
must fog my negative!"
"Can that be arranged?" asked Coram of the
inspector.
"The men on duty can remain in the hall, if you
wish it, sir."
"Good!" rumbled Moris Klaw,
16
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
He moistened his brow with verbena, bowed un-
couthly, and shuffled from the Greek Room.
III
Moris Klaw reappeared in the evening, accom-
panied by a strikingly beautiful brunette.
The change of face upon the part of Mr. Grimsby
of New Scotland Yard was singular.
"My daughter-Isis," explained Moris Klaw.
"She assists to develop my negatives."
Grimsby became all attention. Leaving two men
on duty in the hall, Moris Klaw, his daughter,
Grimsby, Coram, and I went up to the Greek Room.
Its darkness was relieved by a single lamp.
"I've had the stones in the Athenean Harp ex-
amined by a lapidary," said Coram. "It occurred
to me that they might have been removed and paste
substituted. It was not so, however."
"No," rumbled Klaw. "I thought of that, too.
No visitors have been admitted here during the
day?"
"The Greek Room has been closed."
"It is well, Mr. Coram. Let no one disturb me
until my daughter comes in the morning."
Isis Klaw placed a red silk cushion upon the spot
where the dead man had lain.
"Some pillows and a blanket, Mr. Klaw?" sug-
gested the suddenly attentive Mr. Grimsby.
"I thank you, no," was the reply. "They would
TRAGEDIES IN THE GREEK ROOM 17
be saturated with alien impressions. My cushion it
is odically sterilized! The 'etheric storm' created
by Conway's last mental emotion reaches my brain.
unpolluted. Good-night, gentlemen. Good-night,
Isis!"
We withdrew, leaving Moris Klaw to his ghostly
vigil.
"I suppose Mr. Klaw is quite trustworthy?"
whispered Coram to the detective.
"Oh, undoubtedly!" was the reply. "In any
case, he can do no harm. My men will be on duty
downstairs here all night.'
""
"Do you speak of my father, Mr. Grimsby?"
came a soft, thrilling voice.
Grimsby turned, and met the flashing black eyes
of Isis Klaw.
"I was assuring Mr. Coram," he answered, readily,
"that Mr. Klaw's methods have several times proved
successful!"
"Several times!" she cried, scornfully. "What!
has he ever failed?"
Her accent was certainly French, I determined;
her voice, her entire person, as certainly charming-
to which the detective's manner bore witness.
"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with all his cases,
miss," he said. "Can I call you a cab?"
"I thank you, no." She rewarded him with a
dazzling smile. "Good-night."
Coram opened the doors of the Museum, and she
18
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
passed out. Leaving the men on duty in the hall,
Coram and I shortly afterward also quitted the Muse-
um by the main entrance, in order to avoid disturb-
ing Moris Klaw by using the curator's private door.
To my friend's study Hilda Coram brought us
coffee. She was unnaturally pale, and her eyes were
feverishly bright. I concluded that the tragedy was
responsible.
"Perhaps, to an extent," said Coram; "but she
is studying music and, I fear, overworking in order
to pass a stiff exam.”
Coram and I surveyed the Greek Room problem
from every conceivable standpoint, but were unable
to surmise how the thief had entered, how left, and
why he had fled without his booty.
"I don't mind confessing," said Coram, “that I
am very ill at ease. We haven't the remotest idea
how the murderer got into the Greek Room or how
he got out again. Bolts and bars, it is evident, do
not prevail against him, so that we may expect a
repetition of the dreadful business at any time!"
"What precautions do you propose to take?”
"Well, there will be a couple of police on duty in
the Museum for the next week or so, but, after that,
we shall have to rely upon a night watchman. The
funds only allow of the appointment of four attend-
ants: three for day and one for night duty."
you think
"Do
a man?"
think you'll find any difficulty in getting
TRAGEDIES IN THE GREEK ROOM 19
"No," replied Coram. "I know of a steady man
who will come as soon as we are ready for him."
I slept but little that night, and was early afoot
and around to the Museum. Isis Klaw was there
before me, carrying the red cushion, and her father
was deep in conversation with Coram.
Detective-Inspector Grimsby approached me.
"I see you're looking at the cushion, sir!" he said,
smilingly. "But it's not a 'plant.' He's not an
up-to-date cracksman. Nothing's missing!"
"You need not assure me of that," I replied. “I
do not doubt Mr. Klaw's honesty of purpose."
"Wait till you hear his mad theory, though!" he
said, with a glance aside at the girl.
"Mr. Coram," Moris Klaw was saying, in his odd,
rumbling tones, "my psychic photograph is of a
woman! A woman dressed all in white!"
Grimsby coughed-then flushed as he caught the
eye of Isis.
"Poor Conway's mind," continued Klaw, "is filled
with such a picture when he breathes his last-great
wonder he has for the white woman and great fear
for the Athenean Harp, which she carries!"
"Which she carries!" cried Coram.
"Some woman took the harp from its case a few
minutes before Conway died!" affirmed Moris Klaw.
"I have much research to make now, and with aid
from Isis shall develop my negative! Yesterday I
learnt from the constable who was on night duty at
20
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
the corner of the Square that a heavy pantechnicon
van went driving round at four o'clock. It was
shortly after four o'clock that the tragedy occurred.
The driver was unaware that there was no way out,
you understand. Is it important? I cannot say.
It often is such points that matter. We must,
however, waste no time. Until you hear from me
again you will lay dry plaster of Paris all around the
stand of the Athenean Harp each night. Good
morning, gentlemen!"
His arm linked in his daughter's, he left the Mu-
seum.
IV
For some weeks after this mysterious affair, all
went well at the Menzies Museum. The new night
watchman, a big Scot, by name John Macalister,
seemed to have fallen thoroughly into his duties, and
everything was proceeding smoothly. No clue con-
cerning the previous outrage had come to light, the
police being clearly at a loss. From Moris Klaw we
heard not a word. But Macalister did not appear to
suffer from nervousness, saying that he was quite
big enough to look after himself..
Poor Macalister! His bulk did not save him from
a dreadful fate. He was found, one fine morning,
lying flat on his back in the Greek Room-dead!
As in the case of Conway, the place showed un-
mistakable signs of a furious struggle. The attend-
TRAGEDIES IN THE GREEK ROOM
21
ant's chair had been dashed upon the floor with such
violence as to break three of the legs; a bust of Pallas,
that had occupied a corner position upon a marble
pedestal, was found to be hurled down; and the top
of the case which usually contained the Athenean
Harp had been unlocked, and the priceless antique
lay close by, upon the floor!
The cause of death, in Macalister's case, was heart
failure, an unsuspected weakness of that organ being
brought to light at the inquest; but, according to
the medical testimony, deceased must have under-
gone unnaturally violent exertions to bring about
death. In other respects, the circumstances of the
two cases were almost identical. The door of the
Greek Room was locked upon the inside and the keys
were found on the floor. From the detector watches
in the other rooms it was evident that his death
must have taken place about three o'clock. Nothing
was missing, and the jewels in the harp had not been
tampered with.
But, most amazing circumstance of all, imprinted
upon the dry plaster of Paris which, in accordance
with the instructions of the mysteriously absent
Moris Klaw, had nightly been placed around the
case containing the harp, were the marks of little
bare feet!
A message sent, through the willing agency of
Inspector Grimsby, to the Wapping abode of the old
curio dealer, resulted in the discovery that Moris
22
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
Klaw was abroad. His daughter, however, reported
having received a letter from her father which con-
tained the words-
"Let Mr. Coram keep the key of the case con-
taining the Athenean Harp under his pillow at night."
"What does she mean?" asked Coram. "That
I am to detach that particular key from the bunch
or place them all beneath my pillow?"
Grimsby shrugged his shoulders.
"I'm simply telling you what she told me, sir."
"I should suspect the man to be an impostor,"
said Coram, "if it were not for the extraordinary
confirmation of his theory furnished by the footprints.
They certainly looked like those of a woman!"
Remembering how Moris Klaw had acted, I sought
out the constable who had been on duty at the corner
of South Grafton Square on the night of the second
tragedy. From him I elicited a fact which, though
insignificant in itself, was, when associated with
another circumstance, certainly singular.
A Pickford traction engine, drawing two heavy
wagons, had been driven round the Square at 3 A. M.,
the driver thinking that he could get out on the other
side.
That was practically all I learned from the con-
stable, but it served to set me thinking. Was it
merely a coincidence that, at almost the exact hour
of the previous tragedy, a heavy pantechnicon had
passed the Museum?
TRAGEDIES IN THE GREEK ROOM 23
"It's not once in six months," the man assured
me, "that any vehicle but a tradesman's cart goes
round the Square. You see, it doesn't lead any-
where, but this Pickford chap he was rattling by
before I could stop him, and though I shouted he
couldn't hear me, the engine making such a noise, so
I just let him drive round and find out for himself."
I now come to the event which concluded this
extraordinary case, and, that it may be clearly
understood, I must explain the positions which we
took up during the nights of the following week;
for Coram had asked me to take a night watch,
with himself, Grimsby, and Beale, in the Museum.
Beale, the commissionaire, remained in the hall
and lower room-it was catalogued as the "Bronze
Room"-Coram patrolled the room at the top of the
stairs, Grimsby the next, or Greek, Room, and I the
Egyptian Room. None of the doors was locked,
and Grimsby, by his own special request, held the
keys of the cases in the Greek Room.
We commenced our vigil on the Saturday, and I,
for one, found it a lugubrious business. One electric
lamp was usually left burning in each apartment
throughout the night, and I sat as near to that in
the Egyptian Room as possible and endeavoured to
distract my thoughts with a bundle of papers with
which I had provided myself.
In the next room I could hear Grimsby walking
about incessantly, and, at regular intervals, the
24
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
scratching of a match as he lighted a cigar. He was
an inveterate cheroot smoker.
Our first night's watching, then, was productive of
no result, and the five that followed were equally
monotonous.
Upon Grimsby's suggestion we observed great
secrecy in the matter of these dispositions. Even
Coram's small household was kept in ignorance of
this midnight watching. Grimsby, following out
some theory of his own, now determined to dispense
altogether with light in the Greek Room. Friday
was intensely hot, and occasional fitful breezes
brought with them banks of black thundercloud,
which, however, did not break; and, up to the time
that we assumed our posts at the Museum, no rain
had fallen. At about twelve o'clock I looked out
into South Grafton Square and saw that the sky was
entirely obscured by a heavy mass of inky cloud,
ominous of a gathering storm.
Returning to my chair beneath the electric lamp,
I took up a work of Mark Twain's, which I had
brought as a likely antidote to melancholy or
nervousness. As I commenced to read, for the
twentieth time, "The Jumping Frog," I heard the
scratch of Grimsby's match in the next room and
knew that he had lighted his fifth cigar.
It must have been about one o'clock when the
rain came.
I heard the big drops on the glass roof,
followed by the steady pouring of the deluge. For
TRAGEDIES IN THE GREEK ROOM 25
perhaps five minutes it rained steadily, and then
ceased as abruptly as it had begun. Above the noise
of the water rushing down the metal gutters, I dis-
tinctly detected the sound of Grimsby striking
another match. Then, with a mighty crash, came
the thunder.
Directly above the Museum it seemed as though
the very heavens had burst, and the glass roof rattled
as if a shower of stones had fallen, the thunderous
report echoing and reverberating hollowly through
the building.
As the lightning flashed with dazzling brilliance,
I started from my chair and stood, breathless, with
every sense on the alert; for, strangely intermingling
with the patter of the rain that now commenced to
fall again, came a low wailing, like nothing so much.
as the voice of a patient succumbing to an anææsthetic.
There was something indefinably. sweet, but inde-
scribably weird, in the low and mysterious music.
Not knowing from whence it proceeded, I stood
undetermined what to do; but, just as the thunder
boomed again, I heard a wild cry-undoubtedly
proceeding from the Greek Room! Springing to the
door, I threw it open.
All was in darkness, but, as I entered, a vivid
flash of lightning illuminated the place.
I saw a sight which I can never forget. Grimsby
lay flat upon the floor by the farther door. But,
dreadful as that spectacle was, it scarce engaged my
26
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
attention; nor did I waste a second glance upon the
Athenean Harp, which lay close beside its empty
case.
For the figure of a woman, draped in flimsy white,
was passing across the Greek Room!
Grim fear took me by the throat, since I could
not doubt that what I saw was a supernatural mani-
festation. Darkness followed. I heard a loud wail-
ing cry and a sound as of a fall.
Then Coram came running through the Greek
Room.
Trembling violently, I joined him; and together
we stood looking down at Grimsby.
"Good God!" whispered Coram; "this is awful.
It cannot be the work of mortal hands! Poor
Grimsby is dead!"
"Did you see-the woman?" I muttered. I will
confess it my courage had completely deserted me.
He shook his head; but, as Beale came running
to join us, glanced fearfully into the shadows of the
Greek Room. The storm seemed to have passed,
and, as we three frightened men stood around
Grimsby's recumbent body, we could almost hear
the beating of each other's hearts.
Suddenly, giving a great start, Coram clutched my
arm. "Listen!" he said. "What's that?"
I held my breath and listened. "It's the thunder
in the distance," said Beale.
"You are wrong," I answered. "It is someone
TRAGEDIES IN THE GREEK ROOM 27
knocking at the hall entrance! There goes the bell,
now!"
Coram gave a sigh of relief. "Heavens!" he said;
"I've no nerves left! Come on and see who it
is."
The three of us, keeping very close together, passed
quickly through the Greek Room and down into the
hall. As the ringing continued, Coram unbolted the
door-and there, on the steps, stood Moris Klaw!
Some vague idea of his mission flashed through
my mind. "You are too late!" I cried. "Grimsby
has gone!"
I saw a look of something like anger pass over his
large pale features, and then he had darted past us
and vanished up the stairs.
V
Having rebolted the door, we rejoined Moris Klaw
in the Greek Room. He was kneeling beside Grimsby
in the dim light-and Grimsby, his face ghastly pale,
was sitting up and drinking from a flask!
"I am in time!" said Moris Klaw. "He has only
fainted!"
"It was the ghost!" whispered the Scotland Yard
man. "My God! I'm prepared for anything hu-
man-but when the lightning came and I saw that
white thing-playing the harp-
""
Coram turned aside and was about to pick up the
harp, which lay upon the floor near, when-
28
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
"Ah!" cried Moris Klaw, "do not touch it! It
is death!"
Coram started back as though he had been stung
as Grimsby very unsteadily got upon his feet.
"Turn up lights," directed Moris Klaw, "and I
will show you!"
The curator went out to the switchboard and the
Greek Room became brightly illuminated. The
ramshackle figure of Moris Klaw seemed to be in-
vested with triumphant majesty. Behind the
pebbles his eyes gleamed.
"Observe," he said, "I raise the harp from the
floor." He did so. "And I live. For why? Be-
cause I do not take hold upon it in a natural manner
-by the top! I take it by the side! Conway and
Macalister took hold upon it at the top; and where
are they-Conway and Macalister?"
"Mr. Klaw," said Coram, "I cannot doubt that
this black business is all clear to your very unusual
intelligence; but to me it is a profound mystery. I
have, myself, in the past, taken up the harp in the
way you describe as fatal, and without injury-
99
"But not immediately after it had been played
upon!" interrupted Moris Klaw.
"Played upon! I have never attempted to play
upon it!"
"Even had you done so you might yet have
escaped, provided you set it down before touching the
top part! Note, please!"
TRAGEDIES IN THE GREEK ROOM 29
He ran his long white fingers over the golden
strings. Instantly there stole upon my ears that
weird, wailing music which had heralded the strange
happenings of the night!
"And now," continued our mentor, "whilst I who
am cunning hold it where the ladies' gold feet join,
observe the top-where the hand would in ordinary
rest in holding it."
We gathered around him.
But who takes
"A needle-point," he rumbled, impressively, "pro-
truding! The player touches it not!
it from the hand of the player dies! By placing the
harp again upon its base the point again retires!
Shall I say what is upon that point, to drive a man
mad like a dog with rabies, to stay potent for genera-
tions? I cannot. It is a secret buried with the
ugly body of Cæsar Borgia!"
"Cæsar Borgia!" we cried in chorus.
"Ah!" rumbled Moris Klaw, "your Athenean
Harp was indeed made by Paduano Zelloni, the
Florentine' It is a clever forge! I have been in
Rome until yesterday. You are surprised? I am
sorry, for the poor Macalister died. Having per-
fected, with the aid of Isis, my mind photograph of
the lady who plays the harp, I go to Rome to perfect
the story of the harp. For why? At my house I
have records, but incomplete, useless. In Rome I
have a friend, of so old a family, and once so wicked,
I shall not name it!
30
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
"He has recourse to the great Vatican Library—
to the annals of his race. There he finds me an
account of such a harp. In those priceless parch-
ments it is called 'a Greek lyre of gold.' It is
described. I am convinced. I am sure!
"Once the beautiful Lucrece Borgia play upon this
harp. To one who is distasteful to her she says:
'Replace for me my harp.' He does so. He is a
dead man! God! what cleverness!
"Where has it lain for generations before your
Sir Menzies find it? No man knows. But it has
still its virtues! How did the poor Menzies die?
Throw himself from his room window, I recently
learn. This harp certainly was in his room. Con-
way, after dashing, mad, about the place, springs
head downward from the attendant's chair. Mac-
alister dies in exhaustion and convulsions!"
A silence; when-
"What caused the harp to play?" asked Coram.
Moris Klaw looked hard at him. Then a thrill of
new horror ran through my veins. A low moan
came from somewhere hard by! Coram turned in
a flash!
"Why, my private door is open!" he whispered.
"Where do you keep your private keys?" rumbled
Klaw.
"In my study." Coram was staring at the open
door, but seemed afraid to approach it. "We have
M
"
A
L
TRAGEDIES IN THE GREEK ROOM 31
been using the attendant's keys at night. My own
are on my study mantelpiece now."
"I think not," continued the thick voice. "Your
daughter has them!"
"My daughter!" cried Coram, and sprang to the
open door. "Heavens! Hilda! Hilda!"
"She is somnambulistic!" whispered Moris Klaw
in my ear. "When certain unusual sounds-such as
heavy vehicles at night-reach her in her sleep (ah!
how little we know of the phenomenon of sleep!),
she arises, and, in common with many sleepwalkers,
always acts the same. Something, in the case of
Miss Hilda, attracts her to the golden harp—
"She is studying music!"
99
"She must rest from it. Her brain is overwrought!
She unlocks the case and strikes the cords of the
harp, relocking the door, replacing the keys-I before
have known such cases-then retires as she came.
Who takes the harp from her hands, or raises it, if
she has laid it down upon its side, dies! These dead
attendants were brave fellows both, for, hearing the
music, they came running, saw how the matter was,
and did not waken the sleeping player. Conway
was poisoned as he returned the harp to its case;
Macalister, as he took it up from where it lay.
Something to-night awoke her ere she could relock
the door. The fright of so awaking made her to
swoon."
32
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
Coram's kindly voice and the sound of a girl sob-
bing affrightedly reached us.
"It was my yell of fear, Mr. Klaw!" said Grimsby,
shamefacedly. "She looked like a ghost!"
"I understand," rumbled Moris Klaw, soothingly.
"As I see her in my sleep she is very awesome! I
will show you the picture Isis has made from my
etheric photograph. I saw it, finished, earlier to-
night. It confirmed me that the Miss Hilda with
the harp in her hand was poor Conway's last thought
in life!"
"Mr. Klaw," said Grimsby, earnestly, "you are a
very remarkable man!"
"Yes?" he rumbled, and gingerly placed in its
case the "Greek lyre of gold" which Paduano Zelloni
had wrought for Cæsar Borgia.
From the brown hat he took out his scent spray
and squirted verbena upon his heated forehead.
"That harp," he explained, "it smells of dead men!"
I
SECOND EPISODE
CASE OF THE POTSHERD OF ANUBIS
'N EXAMINING the mass of material which I
have collated respecting Moris Klaw, several out-
standing facts strike me as being worthy of some
special notice.
For instance, an unusual number of the cases in
which he was concerned centred about curios and
relics of various kinds. His personal tastes (he was,
I think, primarily, an antiquarian) may have led
him to examine such cases in preference to others.
Then again, no two of his acquaintances agree upon
the point of Moris Klaw's actual identity and person-
ality. He was a master of disguise; and the grand
secret of his life was one which he jealously guarded
from all.
But was the Moris Klaw who kept the curio shop
in Wapping the real Moris Klaw? And to what
extent did he believe in those psychical phenomena
upon which professedly his methods were based? As
particularly bearing upon this phase of the matter,
I have selected, for narration here, the story of the
potsherd.
Since the Boswell, in records of this kind, has often
33
34
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
appeared, to my mind, to overshadow the Johnson,
I have decided to present this episode in the words
of Mr. J. E. Wilson Clifford, electrical engineer, of
Copthall House, Copthall Avenue, E. C., to whom I
am indebted for a full and careful account. I do not
think I could improve upon his paper, and my own
views might unduly intrude upon the story; therefore,
with your permission, I will vacate the rostrum in
favour of Mr. Clifford, for whom I solicit your
attention.
Mr. Clifford's Story of the Egyptian Potsherd
I
During the autumn of 19, I was sharing a
pleasant set of rooms with Mark Lesty, who was
shortly taking up an appointment at a London
hospital, and it was, I think, about the middle of
that month that the extraordinary affair of Hale-
sowen and his Egyptian potsherd came under our
notice.
Our rooms (they were in a southwest suburb) over-
looked a fine expanse of Common. Halesowen
rented a flat commanding a similar prospect; and, at
the time of which I write, he had but recently re-
turned from a protracted visit to Egypt.
Halesowen was a tall, fair man, clean-shaven, very
fresh coloured, and wearing his hair cropped close
to his head. He was well travelled and no mean
THE POTSHERD OF ANUBIS
35.
antiquary. He lived entirely by himself; and Lesty
and I frequently spent the evening at his place, which
was a veritable museum of curiosities. I distinctly
recall the first time that he showed us his latest
acquisitions.
Both the windows were wide open and the awning
fluttered in the slight breeze. Dusk was just descend-
ing, and we sat looking out over the Common and
puffing silently at our briars. We had been examin-
ing the relics that Halesowen had brought back from
the land of the Pharaohs, the one, I remember,
which had most impressed me, tyro that I was, being
the mummy of a sacred cat from Bubastis.
"This,
"It wouldn't have been worth bringing back only
for the wrapping," Halesowen assured me.
now, is really unique."
The object referred to was a broken pot or vase,
upon which he pointed out a number of hieroglyphics
and a figure with the head of a jackal. "A potsherd
inscribed with the figure of Anubis," he explained.
"Very valuable."
"Why?" Lesty inquired, in his lazy way.
"Well," Halesowen replied, "the characters of
the inscription are of a kind entirely unfamiliar to me.
I believe them to be a sort of secret writing, possibly
peculiar to some brotherhood. I am risking expert
opinion, although, in every sense, I stole the thing!"
"How's that?" I asked.
"Well, Professor Sheraton-you'll see his name on
36
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
a moral certainty he
authorities of his find.
a row of cases in the B. M.-excavated it. But it's
didn't intend to advise the
He was going to smuggle it
out of Egypt into his private collection. I had
marked the spot where he found it for inquiries of my
own. This dishonest old fossil-
Lesty laughed.
99
"Oh! my own motives weren't above suspicion!
But, anyway, the Professor anticipated me. Accord-
ingly, I employed one Ali, a distinguished member
of a family of thieves, to visit the learned gentleman's
tent! Cutting the story-there's the pot!"
"Here! I say!" drawled Lesty. "You'll come
to a bad end, young fellow!"
"The position is a peculiar one," replied Halesowen,
smiling. "Neither of us had any legal claim to the
sherd-whilst we were upon Egyptian territory.
Therefore, even if the Professor learnt that I had the
thing and he may suspect-he couldn't prosecute
me!"
"Devilish high-handed!" commented Lesty.
"Yes. But remember we were well off the map-
miles away from Cook's route. The possession of
this potsherd ought to make a man's reputation—
any man who knows a bit about the subject. Curi-
ously enough, a third party had had his eye upon the
place where this much-sought sherd was found. And
in some mysterious fashion he tumbled to the fact
that it had fallen into my hands. He made a sort
THE POTSHERD OF ANUBIS
37
of veiled offer of a hundred pounds for it. I refused,
but ran across him again, a week or so later, in Cairo,
and he raised his price to two hundred."
"Who was he?"
"That's strange," I said.
"Called himself Zeda-Dr. Louis Zeda. He quite
lost his temper when I declined to sell, and I've not
set eyes on him since."
He relocked the fragment in his cabinet, and we
lapsed into silence, to sit gazing meditatively across
the Common, picturesque in the dim autumn twi-
light.
"By the way, Halesowen," I said, "I see that the
flat next door, same floor as this, is to let."
·
"That's so," he replied. "Why don't you men
take it?"
"We'll think about it," yawned Lesty, stretching
his long limbs. "Might look over it in the morn-
ing."
The following day we viewed the vacant flat, but
found, upon inquiry of the agent, that it had already
been let. However, as our own rooms suited us very
well, we were not greatly concerned. Just as we
finished dinner the same evening, Halesowen came in,
and, without preamble, plunged into a surprising
tale of uncanny happenings at his place.
"Take it slow," said Lesty. "You say it was after
we came away?"
66
About an hour after," replied Halesowen. "I
had brought out the potsherd, and had it in the
38
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
wooden stand on the table before me. I was copying
the hieroglyphics, which are unusual, and had my
reading lamp burning only, the rest of the room being
consequently in shadow. I was sitting with my back
to the windows, facing the door, so no one could
possibly have entered the room unseen by me. It
was as I bent down to scrutinize a badly defaced
character that I felt a queer sensation stealing over
me, as though someone were standing close behind
my chair, watching me!"
"Very common," explained Lesty; "merely
nerves.
99
"Yes, I know; but not what followed. The sen-
sation became so pronounced that I stood up. No
one was in the room. I determined to take a stroll,
concluding that the fresh air would clear these un-
canny cobwebs out of my brain. Accordingly, I
extinguished the lamp and went out. I was just
putting my cap on when something prompted me to
return and lock up the potsherd.”
He fixed his eyes upon us with an expression of
doubt.
"There was someone, or something, in the room!”
"What do you mean?" asked Lesty, incredulously.
"I quite distinctly saw a hand and bare white
arm pass away from the table and vanish! It
was dark in the room, remember; but I could see
the arm well enough. I switched on the reading
lamp. Not a thing was to be seen. There was no
THE POTSHERD OF ANUBIS
39
one in the room and no one but myself in the flat, for
I searched it thoroughly!"
Some moments of silence followed this remarkable
story, and I sat watching Lesty, who, in turn, was
regarding Halesowen with the stolid, vacant stare
which sometimes served to conceal the working of
his keen brain.
"Pity you didn't let us know sooner," he said,
rising slowly to his feet. "This is interesting."
II
Halesowen's nerves evidently had been shaken by
the inexplicable incident. As the three of us strode
across the corner of the Common, he informed us
that the new tenant of the adjoining flat had moved
in. "I have been away all day," he said; "but the
stuff was bundled in some time during the afternoon.'
We proceeded upstairs and into the cosy room
which had been the scene of the remarkable occur-
rence related. As it was growing dark, Halesowen
turned on the electric light, and, indicating a chair
by the writing table, explained that it was there he
had been seated at the time.
"Did you have the windows open?" asked Lesty.
"Yes," was the reply. "I left the chairs and the
awning out, too, as it was a fine night; in fact, you
can see that they still remain practically as you left
them."
"When you returned, and saw, or thought you
40
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
saw, the hand and arm-you would have to pass
around to this side of the table in order to reach the
lamp?"
"Yes."
Apparently Lesty was about to make some obser-
vation, when an interruption occurred in the form of a
ringing on the door bell, followed by a discreet fan-
dango on the knocker.
"Who the deuce have we here!" muttered Hales-
owen. "I saw no one go in below."
As our host passed through the lighted room and
into the hall, my friend and I both leant forward in
our chairs, the better to hear what should pass; nor
were we kept long in suspense, for, as we heard the
outer door opened, an odd, rumbling voice came,
with a queer accent:
66
'Ah, my dear Mr. Halesowen, it is indeed an
intrusion of me! But when I find how we are
neighbours I cannot resist to make the call and renew
a so pleasant acquaintance!"
"Doctor Zeda!" we heard Halesowen exclaim, with
little cordiality.
"Ever your devoted servant!" replied the courte-
ous foreigner.
I glanced at Lesty, and we rose together and
stepped through the open window in time to see a
truly remarkable personage enter.
This was a large-framed man, with snow-white
hair cut close to his skull, French fashion. He had
THE POTSHERD OF ANUBIS
4I
a high and very wrinkled brow and wore gold-rimmed
pince-nez. Jet-black and heavy eyebrows were his,
and his waxed moustache, his neat imperial, were
ewise of the hue of coal. His complexion was
d; and in his well-cut frock coat, with a loose
black tie overhanging his vest, he made a striking
picture, standing bowing profoundly in the doorway.
Halesowen rapidly muttered the usual formalities;
in fact, I remember mentally contrasting our friend's
unceremonious manners with the courtly deportment
of Doctor Zeda.
The latter explained that he had taken the adjacent
flat, only learning, that evening, whom he had for a
neighbour, and, despite the lateness of the hour, he
said, he could not resist the desire to see Halesowen,
of whose company in Egypt he retained such pleasant
memories. Allowing for his effusiveness, there was
nothing one could take exception to in his behaviour,
and I rather wondered at the brusque responses of
our usually polite host.
When, after a brief chat, the foreign gentleman
rose to take his leave, he extended an invitation to all
of us to lunch with him on the following day. "My
place is in somewhat disorder," he said, smiling, “but
you are Bohemian, like myself, and will not care!"
Though I half expected that Halesowen would
decline, he did not do so; I, therefore, also accepted,
as did Lesty. Whereupon, Zeda departed.
Halesowen, returning to the chair which he had
42
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
vacated to usher out his visitor, lighted a cigarette,
regarded it for a moment, meditatively, and then
frankly expressed his doubts.
"He's been watching me!" he said; "and when
he saw the next flat vacant he jumped at the chance."
"My dear chap," I retorted, "he must be very
keen on securing your potsherd if he is prepared to
take and furnish a flat next door to you simply with
a view to keeping an eye on it!"
me.
"You have no idea how anxious he is," he assured
"If you had seen his face, in Cairo, when I
flatly declined to sell, you would be better able to
understand."
"Why not sell, then?"
"I'm dashed if I do!" said Halesowen, stubbornly.
On the following day we lunched with Doctor
Zeda and were surprised at the orderly state of his
establishment. Everything, from floor to ceiling, was
in its proper place.
"It hasn't taken you long to get things straight,"
commented Lesty.
66
'Ah, no,” replied the other. "These big firms,
they do it all in a day if you insist—and I insist, see?”
I thoroughly enjoyed my visit, for he proved an
excellent host, and I think even Lesty grew less
suspicious of him. During the weeks that followed,
the doctor came several times to our rooms, and we
frequently met at Halesowen's. The latter, who
boldly had submitted photographs and drawings of
THE POTSHERD OF ANUBIS
43
the sherd to the British Museum, experienced no
repetition of the mysterious phenomenon already
described. Then, about seven o'clock one morning,
when the mists hung low over the Common in
promise of a hot day, a boy came for Lesty and my-
self with news of a fresh development. He was a lad
who did odd jobs for Halesowen, and he brought word
of an attempted burglary, together with a request
that we should go over without delay.
Our curiosity keenly aroused, we were soon with
our friend, and found him seated in the familiar room,
before a large cabinet, with double glass doors, which,
as was clearly evident, had been hastily ransacked.
Other cases in which he kept various curios were also
opened, and the place was in general disorder.
"What's gone?" asked Lesty, quickly.
"Nothing!" was the answer.
"The potsherd is in
the safe, and the safe is in my bedroom-or perhaps
something might have gone!"
"You lock it up at night, then? I thought you
kept it in the cabinet."
"Only during the day. It goes in the safe, with
one or two other trifles, at night; but everybody
doesn't know that!"
We looked at one another, silently; but the name
that was on all our lips remained unspoken-for we
were startled by a loud knocking and ringing at the
door. Carter opening it, into the room ran Doctor
Zeda!
44
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
“Oh, my dear friends!" he cried, in his hoarse,
rumbling voice, "there has been to my flat a midnight
robber! He has turned completely upside-down all
my collections!"
Lesty coughed loudly; but, as I turned my head to
look at him, his face was quite expressionless. Hales-
owen seemed stricken dumb by surprise; whilst,
for my own part, as I watched the foreigner staring
about the disordered room, and noted the growing
look of bewilderment creeping over his pallid counte-
nance, I was compelled to admit to myself that
here was either a consummate actor or a man of
whom we hastily had formed a most unwarrantable
opinion.
"But, my friend-my good Halesowen," he ex-
claimed, with widely opened eyes and extended
palms, "what is it that I see? You are as disordered
as myself!"
Halesowen nodded. "The burglar gave me a call,
too!" he said, grimly.
"My dear sir!" gasped Zeda, seizing the speaker's
arm, "tell me quickly—you have lost nothing?"
Halesowen glanced at him rather hard. "No,"
he answered.
"Ah! what a relief! I feared," rumbled the
doctor. "But perhaps you wonder for what it is
they came?"
"I can guess!"
"You need no longer to guess; I will tell you. It
Ind
THE POTSHERD OF ANUBIS
45
is for your fragment of the sacred vase, and to me
they come for mine!"
We were even more astonished by this assertion
than we had been by the doctor's first. "Your
fragment!" said Halesowen, slowly, with his eyes
fixed on Zeda; "to what fragment do you refer?”
"To that which, together with your potsherd,
makes up the complete vase! But you doubt?"
he suggested, shrugging his shoulders. "Wait but
a moment and I will prove!"
He moved from the room; his gait had a mincing
awkwardness, quite indescribable; and we heard
his retreating, heavy footsteps as he passed down-
stairs. Then we stood and gaped at one another.
"His confounded ingenuity," rapped Halesowen,
"has completely tied my hands."
Being interrupted, at this moment, by the re-
entrance of the gentleman in question, further dis-
cussion of the subject was precluded. Zeda carried a
small iron box which he placed carefully upon the
table and unlocked. A second box of polished ebony
was revealed within, and this, being unlocked in turn,
was proved to contain, reposing in a nest of blue
velvet, a fragment of antique pottery. Taking the
fragment in his hand, the doctor begged that the
potsherd be produced.
Halesowen, after a momentary hesitation, retired
from the room, to return almost immediately with
the broken vase in its wooden frame. Doctor Zeda,
46
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
placing the portion which he held in his hand against
that in the frame, but not so closely as to bring the
parts in contact, turned to us with a triumphant
smile. "They correspond, gentlemen, to a smallest
fraction!" he declared; which, indeed, was perfectly
true.
"And now," continued Zeda, evidently gratified
by the surprise which we could not conceal, "I will
relate to you a story. I do not ask that you shall
credit it; I only say that I have given up my life
to such studies, and that I am willing, as matters
have so arrived, that you shall join me to prove false
or true what I think of the potsherd of Anubis."
"Good!" said Lesty, and settled himself to listen,
an example that was followed by Halesowen and
myself. Zeda paused for a moment, evidently to
collect his ideas, a pause upon which my stolid friend
placed a dubious interpretation, for he cleared his
throat, significantly.
III
"The date is no matter," said Doctor Zeda, "but
there was at Gîzeh, to the north of the Sphinx, a
temple dedicated to Isis, but wherein the worship
was different. We only know of this shrine by the
monuments, but they prove it to have been—eh,
Mr. Halesowen?"
Halesowen nodded.
“Here, then, the gods of the dead were adored-
THE POTSHERD OF ANUBIS
47
but the worship of Anubis took precedence, and was
conducted at a shrine apart. Here, locked within
three-and-thirty doors, having each its separate
janitor who held the key, reposed a sacred symbol—
a symbol, my friends, upon which was based the
occult knowledge of the initiated; a symbol more
precious than the lives of a hundred-hundred warriors
-for so it is written!"
"I have never met with the inscription!" said
Halesowen, drily.
Doctor Zeda smiled.
"You never are likely to meet it!" he responded.
"Your Belzoni and Lepsius, your Birch, Renouf,
Brugsch and Petrie, is a mere unseeing vandal,
blinded to the great truth-to the ultimate secret
that Egypt holds for him who has eyes to see and a
brain to realize!"
The mysterious foreign gentleman looked about
him with a sort of challenge in his glance; then he
quietly resumed his story.
"At the change of the moon in the sacred month,
Methori, a maiden selected from a noble house for her
beauty and purity, and for a whole year dedicated
to the service of the gods, held in her hands the sacred
thing-held it aloft that the initiated might worship,
until the first white beam lit up the receptacle, when
all bowed down their heads and chanted the 'Hymn
of the Souls Who Are Passing.' Then was it locked
again within the three-and-thirty doors, there to
48
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
remain for another year. None saw the symbol
itself but the high priest, who looked upon it when
he was so ordained-for any other that gazed upon it
died! It was contained in a holy vase!"
He paused impressively. We had all fallen under
the peculiar fascination of the speaker's personality;
we felt as though he spoke of matters wherein he had
had personal concern. I could almost believe him
to have witnessed the strange rites that he told of
with such conviction.
"In a year so long ago," he softly resumed, his
voice now a kind of jagged whisper, "that to speak
of its date were to convey nothing to you, the high-
born virgin on whom the exalted office was conferred
closed upon her unhappy soul the gates of paradise
for ages unnumbered; called down upon her head the
curse of the high priest and the anger of the most
high gods; was rejected of Set himself!
"She let fall from her hands the sacred vase, and
the holy symbol was lost to the children of earth for
evermore! Lost was the key to the book of wisdom;
closed was that book to man for all time!"
"Go on!" said Halesowen, harshly, for Zeda had
paused again.
"You do not grasp?" asked the doctor. "Well,
then, know that the sentence was 'Until the parts
of this vase be made whole again.' Five fragments
there were: a large one, which is your potsherd,
and four smaller. The four smaller, after twenty
THE POTSHERD OF ANUBIS
49
years of untiring search, I have recovered and joined
together. What if we now make whole that which
was broken? May I not, by the exercise of such poor
shreds of the lost wisdom as I have gathered up,
summon before me that wandering spirit ere it
return again to plead for rest at the judgment seat of
Amenti?"
When I say that the man's words proved electrical,
I do not exaggerate the effect which this astounding
proposition had upon us.
upon us. Halesowen was fairly
startled out of his chair, and stood with his eyes
fixed on the other in a fascinated gaze.
Zeda, entirely returning to his customary urbanity,
shrugged and smiled. "You believe my story?"
Lesty was the first to recover himself, and his
reply was characteristic. "Can't say I do," he
drawled, frankly. "I don't say that you may not,
though," he added.
"Then do you not owe it to assist in proving my
words? A little séance? You are sceptical, quite?
Very well; I try to show you. If I fail, then it is
unfortunate, but I bow to an inevitable!"
We looked at each other, interrogatively, and then
Halesowen answered, "All right. It's a queer yarn,
but we leave the matter entirely in your hands."
The doctor bowed. "Shall we say to-night to
begin?" he said, tentatively.
"By all means."
The doctor expressed himself delighted, and, care-
50
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
fully relocking the fragment of the vase in its double
case, he was about to depart, when a point occurred
to me.
"Might I ask whom you suspect of the attempted
burglary?" I said.
He turned, in the door, and fixed a strange glance
upon me. "There are others," he replied, "who
seek as I seek, and who do not scruple to gain their
ends how they may. Of them we shall beware, my
friends, for we know they design upon us!"
With that and a low bow he retired.
Little of interest occurred during the day, until
about four in the afternoon, when Halesowen aroused
us out of a lazy doze to show a letter just received
from the British Museum.
It was in reply to one asking why he had received
no acknowledgment of the photographs and drawings
submitted; and it informed him that no such photo-
graphs and drawings had come to hand!
We usually took tea in the afternoon, and Hales-
owen joined us on this occasion, whilst, at about five
o'clock, Doctor Zeda also looked in. He remained
until it began to grow dusk, when we all went over to
Halesowen's to arrange the first "sitting"-for so the
doctor referred to the projected séance. Retiring,
for a few minutes, to his own establishment, Zeda re-
turned with the iron box and explained what he pro-
posed to do.
"Around this small table we sit, as at séance,"
THE POTSHERD OF ANUBIS
51
he said; "but no medium-only the potsherd. With
these flexible bands I will attach, temporarily, the
parts, and stand the vase in Mr. Halesowen's frame,
here by the window-so. Beside it we will place
the lamp, shaded thus-so that a dim light is upon
it. We can just see from where we sit in the dark.
We will now wait until it is more dusk."
Accordingly, we went out on to the balcony and
smoked for an hour, Zeda polluting the clean air
with the fumes of the long, black cigars he affected.
They had an appearance as of dried twigs and an
odour so wholly original as to defy simile. Between
eight and nine o'clock he expressed himself satisfied
with the light-or, rather, lack of it—and we all
gathered around the table in the gloom, spreading
our hands as he directed. For close upon an hour
we sat in tense silence, the room seeming to be very
hot. A slight breeze off the Common had wafted
the fumes of Zeda's cigar in through the open win-
dows, which he had afterward closed, and the reek
filled the air as with something palpable-and
nauseous. I was growing very weary of the business,
and Lesty, despite the doctor's warning against dis-
turbing the silence, had begun to cough and fidget
irritably, when the rumbling foreign voice came, so
unexpectedly as to startle us all: "It is useless to-
night; something is not propitious. Turn up the
lights."
From the celerity with which Halesowen complied,
52
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
I divined that he, too, had been growing impatient.
"There is some not suitable condition," said
Zeda, relocking his portion of the vase in its case.
"To-morrow we shall make some changes in the
order."
He seemed not at all disappointed, being appar-
ently as confident as ever in the ultimate success of
the séances. One of the windows, he suggested,
should be left open on the following evening during
our sitting; and this we were only too glad to agree
upon, since it would possibly serve to clear the
atmosphere, somewhat, of the odour emanating from
the doctor's cigars. Several other points he also
mentioned as being conceivably responsible for our
initial failure-such as our positions around the table,
and the relative distance of the potsherd. "We
shall see to-morrow," were his last words as he left
us.
"A perfect monument of mendacity!" muttered
Lesty, as we heard the retiring footsteps of our
foreign friend on the gravel below; "and I think
his accent is assumed. I don't know why we even
seem to credit such an incredible fable."
"I don't know, either," said Halesowen, reflec-
tively. "But he certainly possesses the missing part
of the vase, and if he does not believe the story
himself, what earthly object can he hope to serve
by these séances?"
"Give it up!" replied Lesty, promptly; and that,
THE POTSHERD OF ANUBIS
53
I think, rather aptly expressed the mental attitude'
of all three.
We saw nothing of Zeda throughout the following
day, but he duly put in an appearance in the evening,
and placed us around the table again, but in different
order. One of the French windows was left open,
and the potsherd, with the lamp beside it, placed
somewhat to the left.
After persevering for about forty minutes, we were
rewarded by a rather conventional phenomenon.
The table rocked and gave forth cracking sounds.
There was no other manifestation, and, at about
half-past ten, the doctor again terminated the
séance.
"Excellent!" said Zeda, enthusiastically, "excel-
lent! We were en rapport, and within the circle.
there was power. To-morrow we shall triumph, my
friends, but there is again an alteration that occurs
to me. You, Mr. Clifford, shall sit next to Mr. Lesty
on the left, Mr. Halesowen shall be upon his right,
and I, facing Mr. Lesty between. Also, there is too
much light from the lamps in the road. It is good,
I think, to have open the windows, but this Japanese
screen will keep out that too much light and shelter
the vase. To-morrow we will observe these things."
This, then, concluded our second sitting, and brings
me to the final episode of that affair which, strange
enough in its several developments, was stranger still
in its dénouement.
54
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
IV
Zeda, on the following day, entertained us to
luncheon in town, followed by an afternoon concert,
for which he had procured seats, being interested, or
professing to be, in a certain fiddler who figured
largely in the programme. We had arranged that
Halesowen and the doctor should dine with us in
the evening, before we went to the former's flat for
the séance, and we accordingly returned direct to
our rooms and chatted over the doings of the day
until dinner was served. Zeda surpassed himself in
brilliant conversation. He must, I remember think-
ing, have led a strange and eventful life.
At about nine o'clock, we walked over, in the dark,
to our friend's flat, where we had to grope for and
light an oil lamp which he had, Zeda declaring that
something in the atmosphere was propitious and
that the electric light would tend to disturb these
favourable conditions. He seemed to be strung to
high tension, perhaps with expectancy, but was not
so preoccupied as to forget his black cigars, one of
which he lighted as he was about to go out for the
iron box. He borrowed my matches for the purpose
and forgot to return them.
It was, perhaps, a quarter to ten before Zeda had
matters arranged to his satisfaction, and so dark,
by reason of the tall Japanese screen which stood be-
fore the open windows, that I could see neither Zeda,
THE POTSHERD OF ANUBIS
55
on my left, nor Lesty, who sat on my right. Hales-
owen was a dim silhouette against the patch of light
cast by the oil reading lamp beside the vase, which
stood the whole length of the room away. I was
conscious of a suppressed excitement, which I am sure
was shared by my companions.
I heard a distant clock striking the half hour, and
then the three quarters; but still nothing had oc-
curred. A motor car drove around from the road
and stopped somewhere at the outer end of the drive.
I wondered, idly, if it were that of the surgeon who
lived at Number 10. After that, everything was
very quiet, and I was expecting to hear the hour
strike, and straining my ears to catch the sound of
the first chime, when the rocking and cracking of the
table began. This was much more violent than
hitherto, and Zeda's gruff tones came softly: "What-
ever shall happen, do not remove your hands from
the table!"
He ceased speaking, and the rocking motions,
together with the rapping and cracking that had
sounded from all about us, also ceased, with dis-
concerting suddenness. A silence fell, so short
in duration as to be scarcely appreciable; for it
was almost instantly broken by an unexpected
sound.
It was a woman's voice, very low and clear, and
it seemed to mutter something in a weird, rising
cadence, with a high note at the end of every third
56
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
bar or so, and this over and over again-an eerie
thing, vaguely like a Gregorian chant.
"Triumph!" whispered Zeda. "The 'Hymn of
the Souls Who Are Passing.""
His speech seemed to disturb the singer, but only
for a moment. The Hymn was continued.
This singular performance was proving too much
for my nerves; at each recurrence of the quiet, clear
note on the fourth beat of the third bar, a cold
shudder ran down my spine. Then, as the very
monotony of the thing was beginning to grow appal-
ling, I suddenly became aware of a slim, white figure
standing beside the vase!
The chant stopped, and I could hear nothing but
the nervous breathing of my companions. Seated as
they were, I doubted whether Halesowen or Lesty
could see this apparition, but I was facing directly
toward her for it was a woman.
I could see every
line of her figure-the curves of her throat and arms
and shoulders, the dull, metallic gleaming of her
clustering hair. As she extended her hand toward
the light, I distinctly saw the large green stone set
in a ring on her index finger. She must be very
beautiful, I thought, and I was peering through the
gloom in a vain endeavour to see her more clearly,
when there came a disconcerting crash-and utter
darkness! The table whereat we were seated was
overturned, and I found myself capsized from my
chair!
THE POTSHERD OF ANUBIS
57
"Hold him!" yelled the voice of Lesty.
him, Halesowen-Clifford!"
A door banged loudly.
"Hold
"Confound it! I'm on the floor!"-from Hales-
owen.
I shouted for someone to turn up the light, at the
same time scrambling through the gloom with that
intent. After severely damaging my shins against
the intervening furniture, I found the switch. It
would not work!
"It's cut off!" I cried. "Strike a match, some-
body."
"Haven't got any!" said Lesty.
"Zeda has mine!" responded Halesowen. "Open
the door."
"Locked!" was Lesty's next report.
"Break it down!" shouted Halesowen, hurling
aside the Japanese screen. "The potsherd is gone!"
Lesty applied his shoulder to the oak-once-
twice thrice. Then all together we attacked it, and
it flew open with a splintering crash.
"Round to his flat!" panted Halesowen, running
downstairs.
Out on to the drive we sprinted, into the next
entrance and up to the first landing. Knocking and
ringing proved ineffectual, and the door was too
strong to be burst open. We stood in dismayed
silence, staring at one another.
"Off your balcony, on to his and through the
58
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
French window!" said Lesty, suddenly; so back we
all ran again.
I had never before realized how easy it was to get
from one balcony to another, until I saw Lesty swing
himself across. Halesowen and I followed in a trice,
and we all blundered into the dark room through the
window and made for the electric switch beside
the mantelpiece. We turned on the light. The room
was unfurnished!
open
"Good Lord!" breathed Halesowen, hurrying into
the next.
That, too, was quite bare, as were all the rest!
The outer door was locked.
"While we were fooling at that concert, he had
every scrap of stuff removed!" I said. "He prob-
ably had the lot on hire from a big furnishing firm-
curios and all. I remember noticing that his curi-
osities were of a very ordinary character, considering
his extensive travels and the nature of his studies."
"No doubt whatever," agreed Lesty. "His bur-
glary proved a failure (and, I think, must have been
interrupted), though I am compelled to admire the
neat manner in which he handled the very delicate
situation that resulted. His more recent and elabo-
rate device has turned out all that could be desired-
from Zeda's point of view!"
"But how has he got away?" said Halesowen, in
bewilderment.
"Motor waiting at the corner," replied Lesty,
THE POTSHERD OF ANUBIS
59
promptly. "Heard it come up. When the reading
lamp was capsized, and whoever had crept from his
balcony to yours and in behind the screen had re
turned the same way-with the vase!-Zeda over
turned the table and pushed you two men backward
in your chairs. Then, before I could reach him, he
bolted out and locked the door after him. For,
having lulled my suspicions by two practically un-
eventful séances, he cunningly placed himself nearest
to the door and me farthest away. He probably re-
moved the key when he went out for the box and
placed it outside in the lock when he returned. His
accomplice had run straight through Zeda's flat and
out to the waiting car, and there he joined her. They
may be thirty miles away by now!"
Being unable to open the door, we perforce re-
turned to Halesowen's balcony by the same way that
we had come, our friend bewailing his lost potsherd
and exclaiming: "The cunning, cunning scamp!"
"I knew he had some deep game in hand," said
Lesty; "but I hadn't bargained for this move. Of
course, I had noticed the dodge of borrowing all our
matches, but I didn't grasp its importance until too
late. It never occurred to me that he'd discon-
nected the electric light (which he probably did some-
time in the night, by the way). I was a fool not to
realize it, too, when he insisted on our using only
the oil lamp. Then, again, I was slow not to go
straight through the window and into Zeda's flat that
60
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
way. It is just possible I might have caught the lady
songster if I had done that in the first place. The
possibility, however, had not been overlooked, since
she took the precaution to lock the door after her."
"A clever rogue!" I declared. "But wasn't the
first attempt for I suppose we must classify the
mysterious arm under that head-more than a trifle
indiscreet?"
"No doubt," agreed Lesty. "But we didn't know,
then, that Zeda was in London, and the flat was still
unfurnished. Also, they may have thought Hales-
owen was in bed; or the woman (whom he has so
cleverly kept out of sight) may have exceeded her
instructions in attempting to touch the potsherd
while any one remained in the room.'
وو
"But," said Halesowen, slowly, "we don't know
that there was any woman!"
"Eh?" queried Lesty.
"Did you see her?"
"No."
"I did. She was lovely, very lovely-for a
woman!"
Lesty stared curiously. "You surprise me," he
commented, drily.
"Zeda was a strange man," pursued the other,
"and there were certainly things occurred as we sat
round that table that need a lot of explaining."
"Very ordinary three-and-six-a-head phenomena!"
was the reply. "Merely a blind."
THE POTSHERD OF ANUBIS
61
"Then what was the reason of his burning desire
to secure my potsherd, if not to complete the vase?"
"Do you mean to tell me," asked Lesty, "that
you are going to credit that story about the priestess
-now, after he has shown his hand? Do you wish to
suggest that he was aided by a spirit?"
"Then why was he so keen to get the thing?"
persisted Halesowen.
Lesty looked at him, looked at me, shrugged his
shoulders and began to load his pipe. Having done
so, he sat smoking and staring at the brilliant moon.
"Well?" inquired our host.
"Give it up!" admitted Lesty.
(Conclusion of Mr. Clifford's Account)
V
One of my visits to the Wapping curio shop of
Moris Klaw was made in company with Mr. Hales-
owen, who, with the others mentioned in the fore-
preview
going narrative, I subsequently had met.
Somewhere amid the misty gloom of this place,
where loot of a hundred ages, of every spot from
pole to pole, veils its identity in the darkness, sits
a large gray parrot. Faint perfumes and scuffling
sounds tell of hidden animal life near to the visitor;
but the parrot proclaims itself stridently:
"Moris Klaw! Moris Klaw! The devil's come
for you!"
62
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
That signal brings Moris Klaw from his hiding
place. He shuffles into the shop, a figure appropriate
to its surroundings. Imagine a tall, stooping man,
enveloped in a very faded blue dressing gown. His
skin is but a half-shade lighter than that of a China-
man; his hair, his shaggy brows, his scanty beard,
defy one to name their colour. He wears pince-
nez.
When upon this particular occasion I introduced
my companion, and Moris Klaw acknowledged the
introduction in his rumbling voice, I saw Halesowen
stare.
Klaw produced a scent spray from somewhere and
sprayed verbena upon his high yellow brow.
"It is very stuffy-in this shop!" he explained.
"Isis! Isis! Bring for my visitors some iced
drinks!"
He invoked a goddess, and a goddess appeared:
a brilliantly beautiful brunette, with delightfully
curved scarlet lips and flashing eyes whose fire the
gloom could not dim.
"Good God!" cried Halesowen-and fell back.
"My daughter Isis," rumbled Moris Klaw. "This
is Mr. Halesowen, from whom we rescue the Egyptian
potsherd!"
"What!"
Halesowen leant forward across the counter.
"You recognize my daughter?" continued Moris
THE POTSHERD OF ANUBIS
63
Klaw; "but not Doctor Zeda, eh? Or only his poor
old voice? You gave us great trouble, Mr. Halesowen.
Once, you came in just as Isis, who has climbed on
to your balcony, is about to take the potsherd-
"There was no one in the room!"
.29
"I was in the room!" interrupted the girl, coolly.
"I was draped in black from head to foot, and I
slipped behind the window hangings, unseen, whilst
you fumbled with your lamp!"
"It was indiscreet," continued Moris Klaw,
"and made it harder for me; because, afterward, you
lock up the treasure and my search is unavailing.
Also, I am interrupted. Pah! I am clumsy! I
waste time! But, remember, I offered to buy it!"
"Suppose," said Halesowen, slowly, "I give you
both in 'charge?"
"You cannot," was the placid
was the placid reply; "for you
cannot say how you came into possession of the
sherd! Professor Sheraton was in a similar forked
stick-and that is where I come in!"
"What! you were acting for him?”
"Certainly! I happen to be in Egypt at the time,
and he is a friend of mine. Your thief, Ali, left a
small piece of the pot behind, and I am entrusted
to make it complete!"
"You have succeeded!" said Halesowen, grimly,
all the time furtively watching the beautiful Isis.
"Yes," rumbled Moris Klaw. "I am the instru
64 210 DREAM DETECTIVE
c
ment pic justice. Isis, those cool beverages.
Let us drak to poetic justice!"
He sprayed his ample brow with verbena.
In conclusion, you may ask if the value of the
potsherd justified the elaborate and costly mode of
its recovery.
I reply: Upon what does the present fame of
Professor Sheraton rest? His "New Key to the
Egyptian Book of the Dead." Upon what is that
work founded? Upon the hieroglyphics of the Pot-
sherd of Anubis, which (no questions being asked of so
distinguished a savant) was recently acquired from
the Professor by the nation at a cost of £15,000!
THIRD EPISODE
CASE OF THE CRUSADER'S AX
I
I
HAVE heard people speak of Moris Klaw's fail-
ures. So far as my information bears me, he
never experienced any. "What," I have been'
asked, "of the Cresping murder case? He certainly
failed there."
Respecting this question of his failure or success in
the sensational case which first acquainted the entire
country with the existence of Crespie Hall, and
that brought the old-world village of Cresping into
such unwonted prominence, I shall now invite your
opinion.
-
The investigation-the crime having baffled the
local
was placed in the hands of
Detective-Inspector Grimsby; and through Grimsby
I was brought into close touch with the matter. I had
met Grimsby during the course of the mysterious
happenings at the Menzies Museum, and at that time
I also had made the acquaintance of Moris Klaw.
Thus, as I sat over my breakfast one morning read-
ing an account of the Cresping murder case, I was
65
66
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
no more than moderately surprised to see Inspector
Grimsby walk into my rooms.
He declined my offer of a really good Egyptian
cigarette.
"Thanks all the same," he said; "but there's only
one smoke I can think on.”
With that he lighted one of the cheroots of which he
smoked an incredible quantity, and got up from his
chair, restlessly.
"I've just run up from Cresping by the early
train," he began, abruptly. "You've heard all
about the murder, of course?"
I pointed to my newspaper, conspicuous upon the
front page of which was:
"THE MURDER AT CRESPIE HALL”
"Ah, yes," he said, absently. "Well, I've been
sent down and, to tell you the white and unsullied
truth, I'm in a knot!"
I passed him a cup of coffee.
"What are the difficulties?" I asked.
"There's only one," he rapped back: "who did
it!"
"It looks to me a very clear case against Ryder, the
ex-butler."
"So it did to me," he agreed, "until I got down
there! I'd got a warrant in my pocket all ready.
Then I began to have doubts!"
CASE OF THE CRUSADER'S AX
67
1
"What do you propose to do?"
Grimsby hesitated.
"Well," he replied, "it wouldn't do any good to
make a mistake in a murder case; so what I should
like to do would be to get another opinion-not
official, of course!"
I glanced across at him.
"Mr. Moris Klaw?"
He nodded.
"Exactly!"
"You've changed your opinion respecting him?"
"Mr. Searles, his investigation of the Menzies
Museum outrages completely stood me on my head!
I'm not joking. I'd always thought him a crank, and
in some ways I think so still; but at seeing through a
brick wall I'd put all I've got on Moris Klaw any
day!"
"But surely you are wasting time by coming to
me?"
"No, I'm not," said Grimsby, confidently. "Moris
Klaw, for all his retiring habits, is not a man that
wants his light hidden under a bushel! He knows
that you are collecting material about his methods,
and he's more likely to move for you than for me.
""
I saw through Grimsby's plan. He wanted me to
invite Moris Klaw to look into the Crespie murder
case, in order that he (Grimsby) might reap any
official benefit accruing without loss of self-esteem!
I laughed.
B
68
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
"All right, Grimsby!" I said. "Since he has
made no move, voluntarily, it may be that the case
does not interest him; but we can try."
Accordingly, having consulted an A.B.C., we
presently entrained for Wapping, and as a laggard
sun began to show up the dinginess and the dirtiness
of that locality, sought out a certain shop, whose
locale I shall no more closely describe than in saying
that it is close to Wapping Old Stairs.
One turns down a narrow court, with a blank wall
on the right and a nailed-up doorway and boarded-up
window on the left. Through the cracks of the latter
boarding, the inquiring visitor may catch a glimpse,
beyond a cavernous place which once was some kind
of warehouse, of Old Thames tiding muddily.
The court is a cul de sac. The shop of Moris Klaw
occupies the blind end. Some broken marble pedes-
tals stand upon the footway, among seatless chairs,
dilapidated chests, and a litter of books, stuffed
birds, cameos, inkstands, swords, lamps, and other
unclassifiable rubbish. A black doorway yawns
amid the litter.
Imagine Inspector Grimsby and me as entering
into this singular Cumæan cave.
Our eyes at first failed to penetrate the gloom.
All about moved rustling suggestions of animal
activity. The indescribable odour of old furniture
assailed our nostrils together with an equally in-
describable smell of avian, reptilian, and rodent life.
CASE OF THE CRUSADER'S AX 69*
"Moris Klaw! Moris Klaw! The devil's come
for you!"
Thus the scraping voice of the parrot. A door
opened, admitting a little more light and Moris Klaw.
The latter was fully dressed; whereby I mean that he
wore his dilapidated caped black cloak, his black silk
muffler and that rarest relic of his unsavoury reli-
quary, the flat-topped brown bowler.
In that inadequate light his vellum face looked
older, his shaggy brows, his meagre beard, more
toneless, than ever. Through the gold-rimmed
pince-nez he peered for a moment, downward from
his great height. He removed the bowler.
"Good morning, Mr. Searles! Good morning,
Inspector Grimsby! I am just from Paris. It is
so good of you to call so early to tell me all about
the poor murdered man of Cresping! Good morning!
Good morning!"
II
Moris Klaw's sanctum is certainly one of the most
remarkable apartments in London. It is lined with
shelves, which contain what I believe to be a unique
library of works dealing with criminology-from
Moris Klaw's point of view. Strange relics are there,
too; and all of them have histories. A neat desk,
with flowers in a silver vase, and a revolving chair
standing upon a fine tiger skin are the other notable
items of furniture.
70
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
The contrast on entering was startling. Moris
Klaw placed his hat upon the desk, and from it
took out the scent spray without which he never
travels. He played the contents upon his high, yel-
low forehead-filling the air with the refreshing
odour of verbena.
"That shop!" he said, "it smell very strong this
morning. It is not so much the canaries as the
rats!"
"I trust," began Grimsby, respectfully, "that Miss
Klaw is quite well?"
"Isis will presently be here to say for herself," was
the reply. "And now-this bad business of Cresping.
It seems I am just back in time, but, ah! it is a
fortnight old!"
Grimsby cleared his throat. "You will have
read-
"Ah, my friend!" Moris Klaw held up a long,
tapering white hand. "As though you do not know
that I never confuse my poor brain with those foolish
papers. No, I have not read, my friend!"
"Oh!" said Grimsby, something taken aback.
"Then I shall have to tell you the family story-
Isis Klaw entered.
99
From her small hat, with its flamingo-like plume,
to her dainty shoes, she was redolent of the Rue de la
Paix. She wore an amazingly daring toilette; I can
only term it a study in flame tones. A less beautiful
woman could never have essayed such a scheme; but
CASE OF THE CRUSADER'S AX 71
this superb brunette, with her great flashing eyes and
taunting smile, had the lithe carriage of a Cleopatra,
the indescribable diablerie of a ghaziyeh.
Inspector Grimsby greeted her with embarrassed
admiration. Greetings over-
"We must hurry, Father!" said the girl.
Moris Klaw reclaimed his archaic bowler.
"Mr. Searles and Inspector Grimsby will perhaps
be joining us?" he suggested.
"Where?" began Grimsby.
"Where but by the 9:5 train for Uxley!" said
Klaw. "Where but from Uxley to Cresping! Do I
waste time, then—I?”
"You have been retained?" suggested Grimsby.
66
"Ah, no!" was the reply. "But I shall receive my
fee, nevertheless!"
At the end of the court a cab was waiting. Outside
the cavernous door a ramshackle man with a rosy
nose bowed respectfully to the proprietor.
If
"You hear me, William," said Moris Klaw, to this
derelict. "You are to sell nothing—unless it is the
washstand! Forget not to change the canaries'
water. The Indian corn is for the white rats.
there is no mouse in the trap by eight o'clock, give the
owl a herring. And keep from the drink; it will be
your ruin, William!"
We entered the cab. My last impression of the
place was derived from the invisible parrot, who gave
us Godspeed with:
72
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
"Moris Klaw! Moris Klaw! the devil's come for
you!"
As we drove stationward, Grimsby, his eyes rarely
leaving the piquant face of Isis Klaw, outlined the
history of the Crespie family to the silent Moris. In
brief it was this:
The late Sir Richard Crespie, having become
involved in serious monetary difficulties, employed
such methods of drowning his sorrows as were far
from conducive to domestic felicity; and after a
certain unusually violent outburst the home was
broken up. His son, Roland, was the first to go;
and he took little with him but his mother's blessing
and his father's curses. Then Lady Crespie went
away to her sister in London, only surviving her
departure from the Hall by two years. Alone, and
deserted, first by son and then by wife, the debauched
old baronet continued on his course of heavy drinking
for some years longer. The servants left him, one by
one, so that in the end, save for faithful old Ryder, the
butler, whose family had served the Crespies for time
immemorial, he had the huge mansion to himself.
Apoplexy closed his unfortunate career; and, since
nothing had been heard of him for years, it was gen-
erally supposed that the son had met his death in
Africa, whither he had gone on leaving home.
With the passing of Sir Richard came Mr. Isaac
Heidelberger, and he wasted no time in impressing his
noxious personality upon the folks of Cresping. He
CASE OF THE CRUSADER'S AX 73
was a German Jew, large and oily, with huge coarse
features and a little black moustache that had been
assiduously trained in a futile attempt to hide a
mouth that had well befitted Nero. A week after
Sir Richard's burial, Mr. Heidelberger took posses-
sion of the Hall.
The new occupant brought with him one Heimer,
a kind of confidential clerk, and, old Ryder the butler
having been sent about his business, the two Jewish
gentlemen proceeded to make themselves comforta-
ble. The nature of their business was soon public
property; the grand old Hall was to be turned into a
country mansion for paying guests.'
66
""
Very strained relations existed between the big Jew
and the ex-butler, who, having a little money saved,
had settled down in Cresping. One night, at the
Goblets-the historic village inn-Heidelberger hav-
ing swaggered into the place, there arose an open
quarrel. Said Ryder:
"Sir Richard, with all his faults, was once a good
English gentleman, and, but for such as you, a good
English gentleman he might have died!"
It was exactly a week later that the tragedy oc-
curred.
"We come to it now, eh?" interrupted Moris Klaw
at this point. "So we also come to the station!
I will ask you to reserve us a first-class carriage!"
Grimsby made arrangements to that end. And, as
the train moved out of the station, resumed his story.
74
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
"What I gather is this," he said.
[I condense his statement and append it in my own
words.]
The Goblets was just closing its doors, and the
villagers who nightly met there were standing in a
group under the swinging sign, when a man came
running down the street from the direction of the
Hall, and, observing the gathering, ran up. It was
Heimer, Isaac Heidelberger's secretary. He was
hatless and his flabby face, in the dim light, was
ghastly.
"Quick!" he rasped, hoarsely. "Where does the
doctor live?"
"Last house but one," somebody said. "What's
the matter?”
"Murder!" cried Heimer, as he rushed off down
the village street.
Such was the dramatic manner in which the news
of the subsequently notorious case was first carried
to the outside world. The facts, as soon made known
throughout the length and breadth of the land, were,
briefly, as follows:
Heidelberger and his secretary, who were engaged
in making an inventory of the contents of the Hall
and in arranging for such alterations of the rooms and
laying out of the neglected grounds as they considered
necessary, had practically reached the end of their
task. In fact, had nothing intervened, Cresping
CASE OF THE CRUSADER'S AX 75
would, on the following day, have seen the old man-
sion in the hands of an army of London workmen.
At about half-past seven in the evening, Heidel-
berger had entered the room occupied by Heimer and
had mentioned that he expected a visitor. The
secretary, who had more work than he could well
accomplish, did not pause to inquire concerning him,
believing the other to allude either to the architect
or to Heidelberger's man, who was coming down from
London. Heidelberger had then gone up to the
library, saying that he should not require Heimer
again that night.
Between eight and half-past-Heimer was not sure
of the time-there was a ring at the bell (that of the
tradesmen's entrance). Knowing that Heidelberger
could admit the visitor directly to the library, Heimer,
hearing nothing more, concluded that the two were
closeted there.
The first intimation that he received of anything
amiss was a loud and angry cry, apparently pro-
ceeding from the old banqueting hall directly over-
head, and unmistakably in the voice of Heidelberger.
Springing from his chair, he took a step toward the
door, and then paused in doubt. There was an
angry murmur from above, the tones of the Jew being
clearly distinguishable; then a sudden scuffle and an
oscillation of the floor as though two heavy men were
at hand grips; next, a crash that shook the room, and
76
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
a high-pitched cry of which he only partially compre-
hended the last word. This he asserted to be "holy."
That Heimer stood transfixed at the open door
throughout all this, suffices to brand him a coward.
It was, in fact, only his stories of shadowy figures in
the picture gallery and his general disinclination to
leave his room after dusk that had prompted Heidel-
berger a man of different mettle-to wire to London
for the servant.
At this juncture, however, moved as much by a
fear of the sudden silence as by any higher motive, he
took a revolver from the table drawer, and, holding
it cocked in one hand and seizing the lamp in the
other, he crept, trembling, up a narrow little stair
that led to a door beneath the minstrel's gallery. To
open it he had to place the lamp on the floor, and, at
the moment of doing so, he heard a sound inside the
hall like the grating of a badly oiled lock.
Then, with the lamp held high above his head, he
peered inside; and, considering the character of the
man, it is worthy of note that he did not faint on the
spot, for the feeble light, but serving, as it did, to
intensify the gloom of the long and shadowy place,
revealed a scene well calculated to shake the nerves
of a stouter man than Heimer.
Less than six feet from where he stood, and lying
flat on his back with his head toward the light, was
Heidelberger in a perfect pool of blood, his skull cleft
almost to the chine! Beside him on the floor lay the
!
CASE OF THE CRUSADER'S AX 77
fearful weapon that had wrought his end—an enor-
mous battle-ax, a relic of the Crusades such as none
but a man of Herculean strength could possibly
wield.
Sick with terror, and scarcely capable of keeping
his feet, Heimer gave one glance around the gloomy
place, which showed him that, save for the murdered
man, it was empty; then he staggered down the nar
row stairs and let himself out into the grounds.
Slightly revived by the fresh night air, but fearful of
pursuit by the unknown assassin, he ran, as fast as his
condition would allow, into the village.
"Here it is—Uxley!" jerked Moris Klaw.
III
"Ah!" cried Moris Klaw, in a species of fanatic
rapture, "look at the blood!"
We stood in the ancient banqueting hall of Crespie.
By a distant door I could see a policeman on duty.
A ghostly silence was the marked feature of the place.
Klaw's harsh, rumbling voice echoed eerily about
that chamber sacred to the shades of departed
Crespies.
Isis Klaw stood beside her father. They were a
wildly incongruous couple. The girl looked down at
the bloodstained flooring with the calm scrutiny of
an experienced criminologist.
"This spot must be alive with odic impressions,'
she said, softly.
78
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
A local officer, who formed one of the
uncomprehendingly.
turned to him.
group, stared
Moris Klaw instinctively
"You stare widely, my friend!" he said. "It is
clear you know nothing of the psychology of crime!
Let me, then, enlighten you. First: all crime"-he
waved one long hand characteristically-"operates
in cycles. Its history repeats itself, you understand.
Second: thoughts are things. One who dies the
violent death has, at the end, a strong mental emotion
--an etheric storm. The air-the atmosphere-
retains imprints of that storm.'
"Indeed!" said the officer.
""
"Yes, indeed! I shall not sleep in this place-as
is my usual custom in such inquiries. Why? Because
I am afraid of the shock of experiencing such an
emotion as was this late Heidelberger's! Ah! you
are dense as a bull! Once, my bovine friend, I slept
upon a spot in desolate Palestine where a poor woman
had been stoned to death. In my dreams those
merciless stones struck me! Upon the head and the
face they crashed! And I was helpless-bound—as
was the unhappy one who for her poor little sins had
had her life crushed from her tender body!"
He ceased. No one spoke. In such moments,
Moris Klaw became a magician; a weaver of spells.
The most unimpressionable shuddered as though the
strange things which this strangest of men told of,
lived, moved, before their eyes. Then-
CASE OF THE CRUSADER'S AX 79
"Yonder is the ax, sir," said the local man, with a
sudden awed respect.
Klaw walked over to where the huge battle-ax
stood against a post of the gallery.
"Try to lift it, Mr. Klaw," said Grimsby. "It
will give you some idea of what sort of man the
murderer must have been! I can't raise it upright
by the haft with one hand."
Whilst Grimsby, the
Moris Klaw seized the ax.
local man and myself stared amazedly, he swung
it about his head as one swings an Indian club!
He struck with it-to right—to left; he laid it down.
"My father has a wrist of steel!" came the soft
voice of Isis. "Did you not know that he was once a
famous swordsman?"
Klaw removed his hat, took out the scent spray and
bathed his forehead with verbena.
"That is a man's ax!" he said. "Isis, what do we
know of such an ax? We, who have so complete
a catalogue of such relics?"
Isis Klaw produced from her bag a bulky note-
book.
"It is the third one," she replied, calmly, passing
the open book to her father; "the one we thought!"
666
"Ah," rumbled Klaw, adjusting his pince-nez,
'Black Geoffrey's' ax!" He turned again to
Palmer, the local officer. "All such antiques," he
said, "have histories. I collect those histories, you
understand. This ax was carried by 'Black Geof-
80
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
frey,' a very early Crespie, in the first Crusade. It
slew many Saracens, I doubt not. But this does
not interest me. In the reign of Henry VIII we find
it dwelt, this great ax, at Dyke Manor, which is in
Norfolk. It was not until Charles II that it came to
Crespie Hall. And what happened at Dyke Manor?
One Sir Gilbert Myerly was slain by it! Who
wielded it? Patience, my friends! All is clear to
me! What a wonderful science is the Science of
Cycles!"
Behind the pebbles his eyes gleamed with excite-
ment. It seemed as though his notes (how obtained
I was unable to conjecture) had furnished him with a
clue; although to me they seemed to have not the
slightest bearing upon the case.
"Now, Mr. Grimsby," continued Moris Klaw:
"In a few words, what is the evidence against Ryder,
the butler?"
"Well," was the reply, "you will note where the
ax used to hang, up there before the rail of the
minstrels' gallery. The theory is that the murderer
rushed up, wrenched the ax from its fastening-
""
"Theories, my friend," interrupted Moris Klaw,
"are not evidence!"
46
Isis gazed at Mr. Grimsby with a smile. He looked
embarrassed.
"Sorry!" he said, humbly. "Here are the facts,
then. In the right hand of the dead man was an open
pocket knife. It is assumed Sorry! Several
CASE OF THE CRUSADER'S AX 81
spots of blood were found on the knife. Do you want
to see it?"
Moris Klaw shook his head.
"It has been ascertained," continued Grimsby,
"that Ryder went out at eight o'clock on the night
of the murder and didn't return until after ten. He
was interrogated. Listen to this, Mr. Klaw, and tell
me why I haven't arrested him! He admitted that
he was the man who rang the bell; he admitted being
closeted with Heidelberger in the library; and he
admitted that he was in the hall when the Jew met his
death!"
"Good!" said Moris Klaw. "And he is still at
large?"
I
"He is! He's made no attempt to run away.
had his room searched, and found a light coat with
both sleeves bloodstained! He had a cut on his left
hand such as might be caused by the slash of a pocket
knife! He said he had caught his hand on a door-
latch, but blankly declined to say what he was doing,
here on the night of the murder! Yet, I didn't ar-
rest him! Why?"
"Why?" said Moris Klaw. "Tell me."
"Because I didn't think it feasible that a man of
his age could wield that ax-and I hoped to use
Ryder as a trap to catch his accomplice!"
"Ah! clever!" rumbled Moris Klaw. "French,
Mr. Grimsby! Subtle! But you have just seen
what a poor old fool can do with that ax!"
82
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
I have never observed a man so suddenly lose faith
in himself as did Grimsby at those words. He flushed,
he paled; he seemed to become speechless.
"Tell me, Mr. Grimsby," said Klaw, "what does
the suspected man do that is suspicious? What
letters does he write? What letters does he receive?"
"None!" replied the now angry Grimsby. "But
he visits Doctor Madden, in Uxley, every day."
"What for, eh?"
"The doctor says the interviews are of a purely
professional nature, and I can't very well suspect a
man in his position!"
"You have done two silly things," rumbled Moris
Klaw. "You have wasted much time in the matter
of Ryder, and you have accepted, unquestioned, the
word of a doctor. Mr. Grimsby, I have known
doctors who were most inspired liars!"
"Then you are of opinion-
Klaw raised his hand.
""
"It is Doctor Madden we shall visit," he said.
"This Ryder cannot escape us. Isis, my child, I
need not have troubled you. This is so simple a
case that we need no 'mental negatives' to point out
to us the culprit!"
"Mr. Klaw" began Grimsby, excitedly.
"My friend," he was answered, "I shall make a
few examinations and then we shall be off to Uxley.
The assassin returns to London with us by the 3:45
train!"
CASE OF THE CRUSADER'S AX
83
IV
As we drove through the village street, in the car
which Grimsby had hired, upon the gate of one of the
last cottages a tall, white-haired old man was leaning.
His clear-cut, handsome features wore an expression
of haggard sorrow.
"There he is!" rapped Grimsby. "Hadn't I
better make the arrest at once?"
"Ah, no, my friend!" protested Klaw. "But
stop-I have something to say to him."
The car stopping, Moris Klaw descended and
approached the old man, who perceptibly paled at
sight of us.
"Good day, Mr. Ryder!" Klaw courteously
saluted the ex-butler.
"Good day to you, sir," replied the old man,
civilly.
Whereupon Moris Klaw said a simple thing, which
had an astounding effect.
"How is he to-day?" he inquired.
Ryder's face became convulsed. His eyes started
forth. He made a choking sound, staring, as one
possessed, at his questioner.
"What-what-do you mean?" he gasped.
"Never mind, Mr. Ryder-never mind!" rumbled
Klaw. "Isis, my child, remain with this gentleman
and tell him all we know about the ax of 'Black
Goeffrey.' He will be glad to hear it!"
84
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
The beautiful Isis obeyed without question. As
the rest of us drove on our way, I could see the flame-
coloured figure passing up the garden path beside the
tall form of the old butler. Grimsby, a man badly
out of his depth, watched until both became lost to
view.
"I've got evidence," he suddenly burst out, "that
Ryder declared Heidelberger to be the direct cause of
Sir Richard's downfall! And I've got witnesses who
heard him say, 'Please God! the Jew won't be here
much longer!""
"Good!" rumbled Moris Klaw. "Very good!"
During the remainder of the journey, Grimsby
talked on incessantly, smoking cheroots the whole
time. But Moris Klaw was silent.
Doctor Madden had but recently returned from his
morning visits. He was a typical country practi-
tioner, fresh-faced and clean-shaven, with iron-gray
hair and a good head. He conveyed the impression,
in some way, that he knew himself to be in a tight
corner.
"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" he said,
briskly.
"We have called, Doctor Madden," rumbled Moris
Klaw, wagging his finger, impressively, "to tell you
that Ryder is in imminent danger-imminent danger
-of arrest!"
The doctor started.
CASE OF THE CRUSADER'S AX
85
"And therefore we want a word with one of your
patients!"
"I do not understand you. Which of my patients?"
Moris Klaw shook his head.
"Let us be intelligent," he said, “you and I, and
not two old fools! You understand so perfectly
which of your patients."
Doctor Madden drummed his fingers on the table.
"Are you a detective?" he snapped.
"I am not!" replied Moris Klaw. "I am a stu-
dent of the Science of Cycles-not motor cycles;
and a humble explorer of the etheric borderland!
You lay yourself open to grave charges, Doctor!"
The doctor began to fidget nervously.
"If indeed I am culpable," he said, "my culpability
only dates from last night.'
"So!" rumbled Klaw.
""
"He has been insensible?"
Doctor Madden started up.
"Mr. Klaw," he replied, "I do not know who
you may be, but your penetration is uncanny. He
had lost his memory!"
"What?-lost his memory! How is that?"
"He was thrown from his horse! Come; I see it is
useless, now, to waste time. I will take you to him."
As we filed out to the waiting car, I glanced at
Grimsby. His stupefaction was almost laughable.
"What in heaven's name is it all about, Mr.
Searles?" he whispered to me.
"I feel like a man in
86
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
a strange country. People talk, and it doesn't seem
to mean anything!"
En route:
"Tell me, Doctor," said Moris Klaw, "about your
patient."
The doctor, without hesitation, now explained that
he had been called to attend a Mr. Rogers, an artist,
who was staying at Hinxman's farm, off the Uxley
Road. On the evening of the tragedy Mr. Rogers
went out on Bess, a mare belonging to the farm, and,
not having returned by ten, some anxiety was felt
concerning him, the mare possessing a very bad
reputation. At about a quarter-past ten the animal
returned, riderless, and Rogers was brought home
later, in an insensible condition, by two farm hands,
having been found beside the road some distance from
the farm.
For some time Mr. Rogers lay in a critical condi-
tion, suffering from concussion. Finally, a change
for the better set in, but the patient was found to
have lost his memory.
"Last Saturday," added the doctor, "a specialist
whom I had invited to come down from London
performed a successful operation."
"Ah," rumbled Moris Klaw, "so we can see him?”
"Certainly. He is quite convalescent. His mem-
ory returned to him completely last night."
In a state of uncertainty which can well be im-
agined, we arrived at, and entered, Hinxman's farm.
CASE OF THE CRUSADER'S AX
87
Seated in the shade of the veranda, smoking his pipe,
was a bronzed young man who wore a bandage about
his head. He was chatting to the farmer when we
arrived.
Moris Klaw walked up the steps beside Doctor
Madden.
"Good day, Mr. Farmer," he said, amiably. A
rosy-cheeked girl face was thrust from an open
window. "Good day, Miss Farmer!" He removed
the brown bowler. He turned to the bronzed young
"Good day, Sir Roland Crespie!"
man.
V
When Grimsby and I had somewhat recovered
from the shock of this dramatic meeting, and Sir
Roland, Madden, and Moris Klaw had talked to-
gether for a few moments, said Moris Klaw:
"And now Sir Roland will tell us all about the
death of Mr. Heidelberger!"
Inspector Grimsby was all eyes when the young
baronet began:
"You must know, then, that I, together with three
others, have been engaged, since my departure from
England, in a mining venture in West Africa. Up to
the time when I left, and, for the sake of my health,
came to England, our efforts had been attended by
only moderate success. Thus, on arriving in Cresping
and taking lodgings with Hinxman as 'Mr. Rogers'-
for the circumstances under which I left home made
88
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
me desirous of remaining unknown in the village-I,
on learning that my father had just died and that the
Hall had fallen into Heidelberger's hands, realized
that my slender capital would not allow of my buying
him out. The facts of the case came as a great shock
to me, and, without revealing my identity-the beard
which I had cultivated in Africa, but which the doc-
tors have removed, acting as an effectual disguise-I
made inquiries concerning Ryder. I had little diffi-
culty in finding him, and he alone, in Cresping, knew
who I really was.
"I now come to the events that immediately pre-
ceded Heidelberger's death. There was one object
in the old place for which I determined to negotiate,
and which, owing to its associations, I particularly
desired to retain. This was my mother's portrait. I
may mention here that, for certain reasons which I
would prefer not to specify, I had rather have burnt
the picture than see it fall into the hands of the
Jew.
"With this object in view, then, I enlisted the
services of Ryder, though from none other than
myself would he have accepted the task. This brings
me to the day prior to Heidelberger's death, and, on
that morning, I received news from Africa which led
me to hope that I might, after all, be able to save my
old home from an ignominious fate. Herein my hopes
have since been realized, for I learnt to-day that the
mine has made rich men of us all; and I assume that
1
CASE OF THE CRUSADER'S AX
89
some ill-advised remark upon the part of Ryder,
regarding Heidelberger's possible expulsion, gave rise
to the idea that the old man contemplated a violent
deed.
"It therefore came about that he made an appoint-
ment with Heidelberger, an appointment which he
duly kept; and it was solely due to my anxiety on
Ryder's behalf, and lest he should meet with some ill-
treatment from the Jew-whom I knew for a man of
most brutal disposition—that I took certain steps
which, indirectly, brought about the tragedy.
"In common with most old mansions of the period,
the Hall has its hidden entrances and exits-though,
in accordance with certain ancient traditions, the
secret of their existence is strictly preserved among
the family. With a view, therefore, to becoming an
unseen witness of the transactions between Ryder
and Heidelberger, I made use of a passage that opens
into a shrubbery some fifty yards from the west
wing. Entering, and mounting the steps at whose
foot the tunnel terminates, I found myself at the
back of an old painting in the banqueting hall. The
frame of this picture forms a door which opens upon
pressing a spring, but the apparatus, owing to its
great age, works very stiffly. From this position,
then, I could hear all that took place in the hall,
where, I had anticipated, the negotiations would be
conducted, as my mother's picture hangs there.
"This proved to be the case; for I had but just
90
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
gained the top of the steps when I heard the two
enter the hall. Heidelberger spoke first.
"Think of you wanting to buy Lady Crespie's
picture, you sentimental old fool!' he said. 'If it
had been another I could name who wanted it, the
case would have been different!'
"Then I heard Ryder's voice. 'What do you
mean, Mr. Heidelberger?' he asked.
"I awaited the Jew's reply with some curiosity.
As I had anticipated, it consisted of a foul and un-
founded imputation against my poor mother. It
was, in fact, more than I could bear in silence, and the
tolerance of old Ryder, too, had reached its limit.
For, at the moment that I wrenched open the panel
and sprang into the room to confront this slanderer,
I heard the sound of a blow, followed by an animal-
like roar of anger from Heidelberger.
"The next moment, he seized the old man by the
throat. Before he had time to proceed further I
struck him heavily with my fist, so that he released
his grip and turned to face his new assailant.
"One tribute I must pay to Heidelberger. He was,
seemingly, incapable of fear; for this sudden attack
by a person he had not known to be present seemed
only to arouse a new resentment. His face, as he
turned and looked me up and down, contained no
trace of fear.
"So it's you that wants the picture, is it?' he
sneered. 'I suppose you are-
CASE OF THE CRUSADER'S AX
91
"Stop!' I said. 'I am Roland Crespie, and can
listen to no more of your foul slanders!'
"For a second he hesitated, looking from me to
Ryder and then toward the picture, dimly discernible
in the light of the candle which he had brought with
him. Then, before I could divine his intention, he
drew a knife from his pocket, and, opening a blade,
took a step in the direction of the portrait. 'You
shall never have it!' he said.
"He had actually inserted the blade in the canvas
-as an examination will show-when I came upon
him, and we closed in a desperate struggle.
--
"In what followed, one can almost trace the
finger of destiny. Heidelberger was a more powerful
man than myself, but in his fury he endeavoured
to stab me with the knife which he held in his
hand!
"I seized his wrist, but he wrenched it from my
grasp. I leapt back from him-as he struck down
with the knife-and to the left of one of the posts
supporting the minstrels' gallery.
"In the blidness of his anger, Heidelberger failed
to perceive the proximity of this post. Moreover, it
was very dark under the gallery. He threw himself
forward savagely-and struck his shoulder against
the post. The impact was tremendous.
"Gentlemen! I tremble, now, to relate what
happened! The ax of 'Black Geoffrey,' which had
hung for centuries before the rail above, was shaken
92
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
from its place by the shock and its time-worn fasten-
ings were torn bodily from their hold. At the instant
that Heidelberger's huge body struck the post, the
great ax, as though detached by invisible hands, fell,
blade downward, cleaving the head of the unfortu-
nate man and remaining, with quivering shaft, up-
right in the oaken floor!
"The suddenness of the tragedy almost dazed me,
and I was awakened to its awful reality by old
Ryder's cry-'Oh, Master Roly!' As Master Roly I
had always been known to the old butler, and this
name it was which someone stated to be 'holy.'
"Our subsequent action was, perhaps, ill-advised.
Removing the ax and raising the head of the victim,
examination showed him to be dead, and, hearing
hesitating footsteps upon the narrow stair beneath
the gallery, we seized the candle and retreated
through the secret panel, Ryder severely cutting his
hand in endeavouring to force the rusty bolt into
place. It was not until we stood in a lane bordering
the grounds, where I had tethered the mare upon
which I had ridden from the farm, that the seemingly
guilty nature of our action dawned upon me. Now,
however, was too late to atone for what I attribute
to a momentary panic; and requesting Ryder to keep
silence until he received instructions from me, I
mounted the mare, intending to return to my lodg
ings and think the matter quietly over.
"By an unlucky accident, the brute threw me, at
CASE OF THE CRUSADER'S AX 93
some distance from the farm, thereby all but bringing
about a second tragedy; and what followed is already
known to you.
"Of Ryder I need only say that rather than in-
criminate me he was prepared to pay the penalty for
a deed which was in truth a visitation of God. Doctor
Madden recognized me, of course, and to him also I
am eternally indebted. I had proposed to make this
statement before a magistrate later to-day."
"You see," said Moris Klaw. "I have done noth-
ing! It would all have happened the same if I had
been in Peru!"
Grimsby cleared his throat.
"Without casting any doubt upon Sir Roland's
word," he began, "there's no evidence to go to a jury
that he didn't-
99
"Pull down the ax himself?" suggested Klaw.
Grimsby looked uncomfortable.
"Well is there?"
"There is!" rumbled Moris Klaw. "I am he!
This case most triumphantly substantiates my theory
of Cycles! Almost parallel it occurred hundreds of
years ago, at Dyke Manor! The ax has repeated
itself!"
"H'um!" said Grimsby. "Your theory of Cycles
wouldn't hold water with twelve good men and true,
I'm afraid, Mr. Klaw!"
"Yes?" replied Moris Klaw. "No? You think
not, eh? Well, then, there is another little point.
94
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
I am an old crank-fool, eh? So? But you? You
are sublimely mad, my Grimsby! You say he, or
Mr. Ryder, may have snatched down the black ax?
Yes? Have you tried to reach the spot where it hung
before the rail?"
"No," confessed Grimsby, with the light as of the
dawning of an unpleasant idea in his eyes.
"No," said Klaw, placidly; "but I have. Mr.
Grimsby, it is impossible to reach within three feet of
the spot, from the stair or from the gallery; and no
live thing but a giraffe could reach it from the floor!"
We were seated in the train, homeward bound.
"For this case," grumbled Klaw, "I get no credit.
It will be said that it all came out without aid from
you or from me. Never mind-I have my fee!"
He patted the haft of the great ax, which ghastly
relic in some way he had arranged to appropriate.
Grimsby was watching Isis Klaw out of the corner of
From a dainty gold case she offered him
a cigarette. Grimsby is no cigarette smoker but he
accepted, with alacrity.
his eye.
The beautiful Isis took one also, and lay back
puffing sinuous spirals from between her perfect red
lips.
W
FOURTH EPISODE
CASE OF THE IVORY STATUE
I
HERE a case did not touch his peculiar in-
terests, appeals to Moris Klaw fell upon deaf
ears. However dastardly a crime, if its de-
tails were of the sordid sort, he shrank within his
Wapping curio shop as closely as any tortoise within
its shell.
66
"Of what use," he said to me on one occasion,
are my acute psychic sensibilities to detect who it
is with a chopper that has brained some unhappy
washerwoman? Shall I bring to bear those delicate
perceptions which it has taken me so many years
to acquire in order that some ugly old fool shall learn
what has become of his pretty young wife? I think
not-no!"
Sometimes, however, when Inspector Grimsby
of Scotland Yard was at a loss, he would induce me
to intercede with the eccentric old dealer, and some-
times Moris Klaw would throw out a hint.
Beyond doubt the cases that really interested him
were those that afforded scope for the exploiting
95
96
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
of his pet theories: the Cycle of Crime, the criminal
history of all valuable relics, the indestructibility
of thought. Such a case came under my personal
notice on one occasion, and my friend Coram was
instrumental in enlisting the services of Moris Klaw.
It was, I think, one of the most mysterious affairs
with which I ever came in contact, and the better
to understand it you must permit me to explain how
Roger Paxton, the sculptor, came to have such a
valuable thing in his studio as that which we all
assumed had inspired the strange business.
Sir
It was Sir Melville Fennel, then, who commissioned
Paxton to execute a chryselephantine statue.
Melville's museum of works of art, ancient and mod-
ern, is admittedly the second finest private collection
of the kind in the world. The late Mr. Pierpont
Morgan's alone took precedence.
The commission came as something of a surprise.
The art of chryselephantine sculpture, save for one
attempt at revival, in Belgium, has been dead for
untold generations. By many modern critics, indeed,
it is condemned, as being not art but a parody of art.
Given carte blanche in the matter of cost, Paxton
produced a piece of work which induced the critics
to talk about a modern Phidias. Based upon designs.
furnished by the eccentric but wealthy baronet, the
statue represented a slim and graceful girl reclining
as in exhaustion upon an ebony throne. The ivory
face, with its wearily closed eyes, was a veritable
CASE OF THE IVORY STATUE
97
triumph, and was surmounted by a headdress of
gold intertwined among a mass of dishevelled hair.
One ivory arm hung down so that the fingers almost
touched the pedestal; the left hand was pressed to
the breast as though against a throbbing heart. Gold
bracelets and anklets, furnished by Sir Melville, were
introduced into the composition; and, despite the
artist's protest, a heavy girdle, encrusted with gems
and found in the tomb of some favourite of a long-
dead Pharaoh, encircled the waist. When complete,
the thing was, from a merely intrinsic point of view,
worth several thousand pounds.
As the baronet had agreed to the exhibition of the
statue prior to its removal to Fennel Hall, Paxton's
star was seemingly in the ascendant, when the singu-
lar event occurred that threatened to bring about his
ruin.
The sculptor gave one of the pleasant little dinners
for which he had gained a reputation. His task was
practically completed, and his friends had all been
enjoined to come early, so that the statue could be
viewed before the light failed. We were quite a
bachelor party, and I shall always remember the
circle of admiring faces surrounding the figure of the
reclining dancer-warmed in the soft light to an al-
most uncanny semblance of fair flesh and blood.
"You see," explained Paxton, "this composite
work, although it has latterly fallen into disrepute,
affords magnificent scope for decorative purposes;
98
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
such a richness of colour can be obtained. The orna-
ments are genuine antiques and of great value-a fad
of my patron's.'
For some minutes we stood silently admiring the
beautiful workmanship; then Harman inquired, "Of
what is the hair composed?"
Paxton smiled. "A little secret I borrowed from
the Greeks!" he replied, with condonable vanity.
"Polyclitus and his contemporaries excelled at the
work."
""
"That jewelled girdle looks detachable,” I said.
"It is firmly fastened to the waist of the figure,'
answered the sculptor. "I defy any one to detach
it inside an hour.'
99
"From a modern point of view the thing is an
innovation," remarked one of the others, thought-
fully.
Coram, curator of the Menzies Museum, who up
to the present had stood in silent contemplation of
the figure, now spoke for the first time. "The cost
of materials is too great for this style of work ever
to become popular," he averred. "That girdle,
by the way, represents a small fortune, and together
with the anklets, armlets, and headdress, might well
tempt any burglar. What precautions do you take,
Paxton ?"
66
'Sleep out here every night," was the reply; "and
there is always someone here in the daytime. Inci-
dentally, a curious thing occurred last week. I had
CASE OF THE IVORY STATUE
99
just fixed the girdle, which, I may explain, was once
the property of Nicris, a favourite of Ramses III,
and my model was alone here for a few minutes. As
I was returning from the house I heard her cry out,
and when I came to look for her she was crouching
in a corner trembling. What do you suppose had
frightened her?"
"Give it up," said Harman.
"She swore that Nicris-for the statue is supposed
to represent her-had moved!"
"Imagination,” replied Coram, "but easily to
be understood. I could believe it, myself, if I were
here alone long enough."
"I fancy," continued Paxton, "that she must have
heard some of the tales that have been circulated
concerning the girdle. The thing has a rather peculiar
history. It was discovered in the tomb of the dancer
by whom it had once been worn; and it is said that
an inscription was unearthed at the same time con-
taining an account of Nicris's death under particu-
larly horrible circumstances. Seton-you fellows
know Seton-who was present at the opening of the
sarcophagus, tells me that the Arabs, on catching
sight of the girdle, all prostrated themselves and then
took to their heels. Sir Melville Fennel's agent sent
it on to England, however, and Sir Melville conceived
the idea of this statue."
"Luckily for you," added Coram.
"Quite so," laughed the sculptor, and, carefully
100
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
locking the studio door, he led the way up the short
path to the house.
We were a very merry party, and the night was
far advanced ere the gathering broke up. Coram and
I were the last to depart; and having listened to the
voices of Harman and the others dying away as they
neared the end of the street, we also prepared to take
our leave.
"Just come with me as far as the studio," said
Paxton, "and having seen that all's well I'll let you
out by the garden door.'
Accordingly, we donned our coats and hats, and
followed our host to the end of the garden, where his
studio was situated. The door unlocked, we all
three stepped inside the place and gazed upon the
figure of Nicris-the pallid face and arms seeming
almost unearthly in the cold moonlight, wherein each
jewel of the girdle and headdress glittered strangely.
"Of course," muttered Coram, "the thing's alto-
gether irregular-a fact which the critics will not
fail to impress upon you; but it is unquestionably
very fine, Paxton. How uncannily human it is! I
don't entirely envy you your bedchamber, old man!”
"Oh, I sleep well enough," laughed Paxton. "No
luxury, though; just this corner curtained off and a
camp bedstead."
"A truly Spartan couch!" I said. "Well, good-
night, Paxton. We shall probably see you to-morrow
I mean later to-day!"
CASE OF THE IVORY STATUE
ΙΟΙ
With that we parted, leaving the sculptor to his
lonely vigil at the shrine of Nicris, and as my rooms
were no great distance away, some half-hour later
I was in bed and asleep.
I little suspected that I had actually witnessed the
commencement of one of the most amazing mysteries
which ever cried out for the presence of Moris Klaw.
II
Some few minutes subsequent to retiring-or so
it seemed to me; a longer time actually had elapsed
-I was aroused by the ringing of my telephone
bell. I scrambled sleepily out of bed and ran to the
instrument.
Coram was the caller. And now, fully awake, I
listened with an ever-growing wonder to his account
of that which had prompted him to ring me up.
Briefly, it amounted to this: some mysterious inci-
dent, particulars of which he omitted, had aroused
Paxton from his sleep. Seeking the cause of the
disturbance, the artist had unlocked the studio door
and gone out into the garden. He was absent but
a moment and never out of earshot of the door; yet,
upon his return, the statue of Nicris had vanished!
"I have not hesitated to 'phone through to Wap-
ping," concluded Coram, "and get a special mes-
senger sent to Moris Klaw. You see, the matter is
urgent. If the statue cannot be recovered, its loss
may spell ruin for Paxton. He had heard me speak
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THE DREAM DETECTIVE
of Moris Klaw and of the wonders he worked in the
Greek Room mysteries, and, accordingly, called me
up. I knew, if Klaw came, you would be anxious to
be present.
"Certainly," I replied, "I wouldn't miss one of his
inquiries for anything. Shall I meet you at Pax-
ton's?"
"Yes."
I lost little time in dressing. From Coram's brief
account, the mystery appeared to be truly a dark
one. Would Moris Klaw respond to this midnight
appeal? There was little chance of a big fee, for
Paxton was not a rich man; but in justice to the
remarkable person whom it is my privilege to present
to you in these papers, I must add that monetary
considerations seemingly found no place in Klaw's
philosophy. He acted, I believe, from sheer love
of the work; and this affair, with its bizarre details-
the ancient girdle of the dancing girl-the fear of
the model, who had declared that the statue moved
—was such, I thought, as must appeal to him.
Ten minutes later I was at Paxton's house. He
and Coram were in the hall, and Coram admitted
me.
"Do you mean," he asked of Paxton, pursuing a
conversation which my advent had interrupted,
"that the statue melted into the empty air?"
"The double doors opening on to the street were
securely locked and barred; that of the garden was
CASE OF THE IVORY STATUE
103
also locked; I was in the garden and not ten yards
from the studio," was Paxton's reply. "Neverthe-
less, Nicris had vanished, leaving no trace behind!"
Incredible though the story appeared, its confir-
mation was to be found in the speaker's face. I was
horrified to see how haggard he looked.
"It will ruin me!" he said, and reiterated the
statement again and again.
"But, my dear fellow," I cried, "surely you have
not given up hope of recovering the statue? After
all, such a robbery as this can scarcely have been
perpetrated without leaving some clue behind."
"Robbery!" repeated Paxton, looking at me
strangely; "you would be less confident that it is
a case of robbery, Searles, if you had heard what I
heard!"
I glanced at Coram, but he merely shrugged his
shoulders.
"What do you mean?" I said.
"Then Coram has not told you?"
"He has told me that something aroused you in
the night and that you left the studio to investigate
the matter."
"Correct, so far. Something did arouse me; and
the thing was a voice!"
"A voice?"
"It would be, I suppose, about two hours after
you had gone, and I was soundly asleep in the studio,
when I suddenly awoke and sat up to listen, for it
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THE DREAM DETECTIVE
seemed to me that I heard a cry immediately outside
the door."
"What kind of cry?"
"Of that I was not, at first, by any means certain;
but after a brief interval the cry was repeated. It
sounded more like the voice of a boy than that of a
man and it uttered but one word: 'Nicris!""
"And then?"
"I sprang on to the floor and stood for a moment
in doubt the thing seemed so uncanny. The electric
light is not, as you know, installed in the studio, or I
should have certainly switched it on. For possibly
a minute I hesitated, and then, as I pulled the cur-
tains aside and stood by the door to listen, for the
third time the cry was repeated and was now coming
indisputably from immediately outside."
"You refer to the door that opens on to the
garden?"
"Exactly-close to which stands my bed. This,
then, decided me. Taking up the small revolver
which I have always kept handy since Nicris was com-
pleted, I unlocked the door and stepped out into the
garden-
A vehicle, cab or car, was heard to draw up outside
the house. Came the sound of a rumbling voice.
Coram sprang to the door.
"Moris Klaw!" I cried.
"Good morning, Mr. Coram!" said the strange
CASE OF THE IVORY STATUE
105
voice, from the darkness outside. "Good morning,
Mr. Searles!"
Moris Klaw entered.
He wore his flat-topped brown bowler of effete
pattern; he wore his long, shabby, caped coat; and
from beneath it gleamed the pointed glossy toe-caps
of his continental boots. Through his gold-rimmed
glasses he peered into the shadows of the hall. His
scanty, colourless beard appeared less adequate
than ever to clothe the massive chin. The dim light
rendered his face more cadaverous and more yellow
even than usual.
"And this," he proceeded, as the anxious sculptor
came forward, "is Mr. Paxton, who has lost his
statue? Good morning, Mr. Paxton!"
He bowed, removing the bowler and revealing
his great high brow. Coram was about to reclose
the door.
"Ah, no!" Moris Klaw checked him. "My
daughter is to come yet with my cushion!"
Paxton stared, not comprehending, but stared yet
harder when Isis Klaw appeared, carrying a huge
red cushion. She was wrapped in a cloak which
effectually concealed her lithe figure, and from the
raised hood her darkly beautiful face looked out
with bewitching effect. She divided between Coram
and myself one of her dazzling smiles.
"It is Mr. Paxton," said her father, indicating the
106
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
sculptor. Then, indicating the girl, "It is my
daughter, Isis. Isis will help us to look for Nicris.
Why am I here, an old fool who ought to be asleep?
Because of this girdle your statue wore. I so well
remember when it was dug up. I cannot know its
history, but be sure it is evil. From the beginning,
please, Mr. Paxton!"
"I'm awfully indebted to you! Won't you come
in and sit down?" said Paxton, glancing at the girl
in bewilderment.
"No, no!" replied Klaw, "let us stand. It is
good to stand, and stand upright; for it is because
he can do this that man is superior to the other
animals!"
Coram and I knew Klaw's mannerisms, but I could
see that Paxton thought him to be a unique kind
of lunatic. Nevertheless, he narrated something
of the foregoing up to the point reached at Moris
Klaw's arrival.
"Proceed slowly, now," said Klaw. "You left
the door open behind you?"
"Yes; but I was never more than ten yards from
it. It would have been physically impossible for
any one to remove the statue unknown to me. You
must remember that it was no light weight."
"One moment," I interrupted. "Are you sure
that the statue was in its place before you came
out?"
"Certain! There was a bright moon, and the
CASE OF THE IVORY STATUE
107
figure was the first thing my eyes fell upon when I
pulled the curtain aside."
"Did you touch it?" rumbled Moris Klaw.
"No. There was no occasion to do so."
"How much to be regretted, Mr. Paxton! The
sense of touch is so exquisite a thing!"
We all wondered at his words.
"Stepping just outside the door," Paxton resumed,
"I looked to right and left. There was no one in
sight. Then I walked to the wall-a matter of some
ten yards and, pulling myself up by my hands,
looked over into the street. It was deserted, save
for a constable on the opposite corner.
I know him,
slightly, and his presence convinced me that no one
could either have come into or gone out of the garden
by way of the wall. I did not call him, but immedi-.
ately returned to the studio door."
"In all, you were absent from the studio about
how long?" asked Moris Klaw.
"Not a second over half a minute!"
"And on returning once more to the door?"
"A single glance showed me that the statue had
gone!"
"Good Heavens!" I said; "it sounds impossible.
Was the constable on point duty?"
"He was; there is always an officer there. He
stood in sight of the double doors opening on to the
street during the whole time, so that 'Nicris' un-
questionably came out by way of the garden or
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THE DREAM DETECTIVE
melted into thin air. Since the only exit from the
garden also opens on to the street, how, but by magic,
can the statue have been removed from the prem-
ises?"
"Ah, my friend," said Moris Klaw, “you talk of
magic as one talks of onions! How little you know"
-he swept wide his arms, looking upward-" of
the phenomena of the two atmospheres! Proceed!"
"The throne," continued Paxton, who was be-
coming impressed as was evident by the uncanny
sense of power which emanated in some way from
Moris Klaw, "remains."
"And the statue-it was attached to it?"
"As to the figure being attached, I may say that
it was only partially so. Materials for completing
the work were to have arrived to-day."
"How long would it have taken to detach it?"
growled Klaw.
"Granting some knowledge of the nature of the
work, not long-for, as I have said, in this respect it
was incomplete. Half an hour or so, I should have
believed!"
"Then," I said, "the matter, in brief, stands thus:
In the course of thirty seconds, during which time
a constable was in view of one entrance and you were
ten yards from the other, someone detached the
statue from the throne-an operation involving half
an hour's skilled labour-and, unseen by yourself
or the officer, removed it from the premises.
99
CASE OF THE IVORY STATUE
109
"Oh, the thing is impossible!" groaned Paxton.
"There is something unearthly in the affair. I wish
I had never set eyes upon that accursed girdle!"
"Curse not the girdle," rumbled Moris Klaw.
"Curse instead its wearer, and inform us, on finding
Nicris to be missing, what did you do?"
"I hastily searched the studio. A brief investi-
gation convinced me that neither statue nor thief was
concealed there. I then came out, locked the door,
and, having examined the garden, hailed the con-
stable. He had been on duty for four hours at that
point and had observed absolutely nothing of an un-
usual nature. He saw you fellows come out by the
garden entrance, and from that time until I hailed
him, nothing, he declared, had come in or gone
out!"
"He heard no cry?"
"No; it was not loud enough to be audible from
the corner
99
"Lastly," said Klaw, "have you informed Scot-
land Yard?"
"No," answered the sculptor; "nor will the con-
stable lodge information; moreover, I withheld from
him the object of my inquiries. If this business
gets into the papers I shall be a ruined man!"
"I have hopes," Klaw assured him, "that it will
get in no papers. Let us proceed now to the scene
of these wonderful happenings. It is my custom,
Mr. Paxton, to lay my old head down upon the scene
IIO
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
of a mystery, and from the air I can sometimes re-
cover the key to the labyrinth!"
"So I have heard," said Paxton.
"You have heard so, yes? You shall see! Lead
on, Mr. Paxton! No time must be wasted. I am
another like Napoleon, and can sleep on an instant.
I do not know insomnia! Lead on. Isis, my child,
be careful that it brushes against no object in passing
-my odically sterilized cushion!"
We proceeded to the studio.
"I feel that I am responsible for dragging you here
at this unearthly hour," said Paxton to Isis Klaw.
She turned her fine eyes upon him.
"My father is indebted for the opportunity,"
she replied; "and since he has need of me, I am here.
I, too, am indebted.”
Her supreme self-possession and tone of finality si-
lenced the artist. So far as I could see, everything in the
studio was exactly as before, save that Nicris's throne
was vacant. The top of the studio was partially
glazed, and Moris Klaw peered up at it earnestly.
"From above," he rumbled, "I should wish to
look down into below. How do I reach it?"
"The only stepladder is that in the studio," an-
swered Paxton. "I will bring it out."
He did so. The gray light of dawn was creeping
into the sky, and against that sombre background
we watched Moris Klaw crawling about the roof like
some giant spider.
CASE OF THE IVORY STATUE
III
"Did you find anything?" asked Paxton, anxiously,
as the investigator descended.
"I find what I look for," was the reply; "and
no man is entitled to find more. Isis, my child, place
that cushion in the ebony chair."
The girl stepped on to the dais, and disposed the
red cushion as directed.
"You see," explained Morris Klaw, "whoever has
robbed you, Mr. Paxton, runs some one great danger,
however clever his plans. There is, in every criminal
scheme, one little point that only Fate can decide—
either to hitch or to smooth out-to bring success
and riches or whistling policemen and Brixton Gaol!
Upon that so critical point his or her mind will con-
centrate at the critical moment. The critical mo-
ment, here, was that of getting Nicris out of your
studio.
"I sleep upon that throne where she reclined-
the ivory dancer. This sensitive plate"-he tapped
his brow—“will reproduce a negative of that critical
moment as it seemed in the mind of the one we look
for. Isis, return in the cab that waits and be here
again at six o'clock.”
He placed his quaint bowler upon a table and laid
beside it his black cloak. Then, a ramshackle figure
in shabby tweed, reclined upon the big ebony chair,
his head against the cushion.
"Place my cloak about me, Isis."
The girl did so.
JI2
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
1
"Good morning, my child! Good morning, Mr.
Searles! Good morning, Mr. Coram and Mr. Pax-
ton!"
He closed his eyes.
"Excuse me," began Paxton.
Isis placed her finger to her lips, and signed to us
to withdraw silently.
"Ssh!" she whispered. "He is asleep!"
III
At five minutes to six sounded Isis Klaw's ring
upon the door bell. Paxton, Coram, and I had spent
the interval in discussing the apparently supernatural
happening which threatened to wreak the artist's
ruin. Again and again he had asked us, "Should I
call in the Scotland Yard people? If Moris Klaw
fails, consider the priceless time lost!"
"If Moris Klaw fails," Coram assured him, "no
one else will succeed!"
We admitted Isis, who wore now a smart tweed
costume and a fashionable hat. Beyond doubt, Isis
Klaw was strikingly beautiful.
At the door of the studio stood her father, staring
straight up to the morning sky, as though by astro-
logical arts he hoped to solve the mystery.
"What time does your model come?" he asked,
ere Paxton could question him.
"Half-past ten. But, Mr. Klaw-
But, Mr. Klaw" began our
anxious friend.
CASE OF THE IVORY STATUE
113
"Where does it lead to," Klaw rumbled on, "that
lane behind the studio?"
"Tradesmen's entrance to the next house."
"Whose house?"
"Doctor Gleason."
"M. D.?"
"Yes. But tell me, Mr. Klaw-tell me, have
any clue?"
you
"My mind, Mr. Paxton, records for me that Nicris
was not stolen away, but walked! Plainly, I feel her
go tiptoe, tiptoe, so silent and cautious! She is
concerned, this barbaric dancing girl who escapes
from your studio, with two things. One is some very
big man. She thinks, as she tiptoes, of one very
tall: six feet and three inches at least! So it is not
of you she thinks, Mr. Paxton. We shall see of whom
it is. Tell me the name of your acquaintance, the
point-policeman."
We were all star ng at Moris Klaw, spellbound with
astonishment. But Paxton managed to mumble:
"James-Constable James.'
و,
"We shall seek him, this James, at the section
house of the police depot," rumbled Klaw. "Be
silent, Mr. Paxton; let no one know of your loss.
And hope."
"I can see no ground for hope!"
"No? But I? I recognize the clue, Mr. Paxton!
What a great science is that of mental photography!"
What did he mean? None of us could surmise,
114
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
and I could see that poor Paxton reposed no faith
whatever in the eccentric methods of the investigator.
He would have voiced his doubts, I think, but he met
a glance from the dark eyes of Isis Klaw which
silenced him.
"My child," said Klaw to his daughter, "take the
cushion and return. My negative is a clear one.
You understand?"
"Perfectly," replied Isis, with composure.
"Breakfast" began Paxton, tentatively.
But Moris Klaw waved his hands and enveloped
himself in the big cloak.
"There is no time for such gross matters!" he
said. "We are busy."
From the brown bowler he took out a scent spray
and bedewed his high, bald forehead with verbena.
"It is exhausting, that odic photography!” he
explained.
Shortly afterward he and I walked around to the
local police depot. Something occurred to me, en
route.
"By the way," I said, "what was the other thing
of which you spoke? The thing that you declared
Nicris to be thinking of, though I don't understand
in the least how one can refer to the 'thoughts' of an
ivory statue!"
"Ah," rumbled my companion, "it is something I
shall explain later-that other fear of the missing
one."
CASE OF THE IVORY STATUE 115
Arriving at the police depot, "Shall I ask for Con-
stable James?" I said.
"Ah, no," replied Klaw. "It is for the constable
that he relieved at twelve o'clock I am looking."
Inquiry showed that the latter officer-his name
was Freeman had just entered the section house.
Moris Klaw's questions elicited the following story,
although its bearing upon the matter in hand was not
evident to me.
Toward twelve o'clock, that is, shortly before
Freeman was relieved, a man, supporting a woman,
came down the street and entered the gate of Doctor
Gleeson's house. The woman was enveloped in a
huge fur cloak which entirely concealed her face and
figure, but from her feeble step the constable judged
her to be very ill. Considering the lateness of the
hour, also, he concluded that the case must be a
serious one; he further supposed the sick woman to be
resident in the neighbourhood, since she came on foot.
He had begun to wonder at the length of the con-
sultation, when, nearly an hour later, the man
appeared again from the shadows of the drive, still
supporting the woman. Pausing at the gate he
waved his hand to the policeman.
Constable Freeman ran across the road immedi-
ately.
"Fetch me a taxicab, officer!" said the stranger,
supporting his companion and exhibiting much
solicitude.
116
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
Freeman promptly ran to the corner of Beira
Road and returned with a cab from the all-night
rank.
"Open the door!" directed the man, who was a
person of imposing height-some six-feet-three,
Freeman averred.
"Ha, ha!" growled Moris Klaw, "six-feet-three!
What a wondrous science!"
He seemed triumphant; but I was merely growing
more nonplussed.
With that, carefully wrapping the cloak about the
woman's figure, the big man took her up in his arms
and placed her inside the cab-the only glimpse of
her which the constable obtained being that of a
small foot clad in a silk stocking. She had apparently
dropped her shoe.
Tenderly assisting her to a corner of the vehicle,
the man, having bent and whispered some word of
encouragement in her ear, directed the cabman to
drive to the Savoy.
"Did you give him your assistance?" asked Moris
Klaw.
"No. He did not seem to require it."
"And the number of the cabman?"
Freeman fetched his notebook and supplied the
required information.
"Thank you, Constable Freeman," said Klaw.
"You are a very alert constable. Good morning,
Constable Freeman!"
CASE OF THE IVORY STATUE
117
Again satisfaction beamed from behind my com-
panion's glasses. But to my eyes the darkness grew
momentarily less penetrable. For these inquiries
bore upon matters which had occurred prior to twelve
o'clock; and, Coram, myself, and Paxton had seen
the statue in its usual place considerably after mid-
night! My brain was in a turmoil.
Said Moris Klaw: "That cab was from the big
garage at Brixton. We shall ring up the Brixton
garage and learn where the man may be found. Per-
haps, if Providence is with us and Providence is
with the right-he has not yet again left home."
From a public call office we rang up the garage,
and learned that the man we wanted was not due to
report for duty until ten o'clock. We experienced
some difficulty in obtaining his private address, but
finally it was given to us. Thither we hastened,
and aroused the man from his bed.
"A big gentleman and a sick lady," said Moris
Klaw, "they hired your cab from Doctor Gleeson's,
near Beira Road, at about twelve o'clock last night,
and you drove them to the Savoy Hotel.”
"No, sir. He changed the address afterward.
I've been wondering why. I drove him to Number
6A, Rectory Grove, Old Town, Clapham."
"Was the lady by then recovered-no? Yes?"
"Partly, sir. I heard him talking to her. But he
carried her into the house."
"Ah," said Moris Klaw, "there is much genius
118
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
wasted; but what a great science is the science of the
mind!"
fool
men
for
IV
Many times Moris Klaw knocked upon the door
of the house in Clapham Old Town, a small one,
standing well back from the roadway. Within we
could hear someone coughing.
Then the door was suddenly thrown open, and a
man appeared who must have stood some six feet
three inches. He had finely chiselled features, was
clean-shaven, and wore pince-nez.
Klaw said a thing that had a surprising effect.
"What!" he rumbled, "has Nina caught cold?"
The other glared, with a sudden savagery coming
into his eyes, fell back a step, and clenched his great
fists.
"Enough, Jean Colette!" said Morris Klaw, "you
do not know me, but I know you. Attempt no
tricks, or it is the police and not a meddlesome,
harmless old fool who will come. Enter, Jean! We
follow."
For a moment longer the big man hesitated, and
I saw the shadows of alternate resolves passing across
his fine features. Then clearly he saw that sur-
render was inevitable, shrugged his shoulders, and
stared hard at my companion.
"Enter, messieurs," he said, with a marked French
accent.
Gla
T
looks
"Yo
WOU
Stoo
grou
Be
TH
arriv
ment
Impos
CASE OF THE IVORY STATUE
119
He said no more, but led the way into a long, bare
room at the rear of the house. To term the apart-
ment a laboratory would be correct but not inclusive;
for it was, in addition, a studio and a workshop.
Glancing rapidly around him, Moris Klaw asked,
"Where is it?"
The man's face was a study as he stood before us,
looking from one to the other. Then a peculiar
smile, indescribably winning, played around his lips.
"You are very clever, and I know when I am beaten,'
he remarked; "but had you come four hours later it
would have been one hour too late."
He strode up the room to where a tall screen
stood, and, seizing it by the top, hurled it to the
ground.
Behind, on a model's dais, reclined the statue of
Nicris, in a low chair!
"You have already removed the girdle and one
of the anklets," rumbled Klaw.
This was true.
Indeed, it now became evident
that the man had been interrupted in his task by our
arrival. Opening a leather case that stood upon
the floor by the dais, he produced the missing orna-
ments.
"What action is to be taken, messieurs?" he asked,
quietly.
"No action, Jean," replied Moris Klaw. "It is
impossible, you see. But why did you delay so
long?"
120
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
The other's reply was unexpected.
"It is a task demanding much time and care, if
the statue is not to be ruined; otherwise I should
have performed it in Mr. Paxton's studio instead of
going to the trouble of removing the figure—and-
Nina's condition has caused me grave anxiety
throughout the night." He stared hard at Moris
Klaw. We could hear the sound of coughing from
some room hard by. "Who are you, m'sieur?" he
asked, pointedly.
"An old fool who knew Nina when she posed at
Julien's, Jean," was the reply, "and who knew you,
also, in Paris."
V
Paxton, Coram, myself, and Moris Klaw sat in the
studio, and all of us gazed reflectively at the re-
covered statue.
"It was so evident," explained Klaw, "that, since
you were absent from here but thirty seconds, for
any one to have removed the statue during that time
was out of the question.'
"But someone did-
99
99
"Not during that time," rumbled Moris Klaw.
"Nicris was removed whilst you all made merry
within the house!"
"But, my dear Mr. Klaw, Searles, Coram, and I
saw the statue long after that-some time about one
o'clock!"
CASE OF THE IVORY STATUE
121
"Wrong, my friend! You saw the model!”
"What! Nina?”
"Madame Colette, whom you knew in Paris as
Nina-yes! Listen-when I drop off to sleep here
and dream that I am afraid for what may happen to
some very large man, I dream, also, that I fear to be
touched! I look down at myself, and I am beautiful!
I am ivory of limb and decked with gold! I creep,
so cautiously, out of the studio (in my dream-you
would call it a dream), and I know, when I wake,
that I must have been Nicris! Ah, you wonder!
Listen.
"At about midnight, whilst your party is amiable
together, comes one, Jean Colette, a clever scamp
from that metropolis of such perverted genius-Paris.
Into Doctor Gleeson's he goes, supporting Madame—
your model. This is seen by Constable Freeman.
When the trees hide them they climb over the fence
into the lane and over the wall into your garden.
Nina has a cast of the studio key. How easy for her
to get it!
"Jean, a clever rogue with his hands, and a man
who promised to be, once, a great artist, detaches the
figure from the throne and arrays it as Madame—in
Madame's outer garb! Beneath her cloak, Madame
is Nicris-with copies of the jewels and all complete.
He is clever, this Jean! He is, too, a man of vast
strength-a modern Crotonian Milo. Not only does
he carry that great piece of ivory from the studio, he
122
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
lifts it over the wall-did Madame assist?—and into
Doctor Gleeson's drive. He bears it to the gate,
wrapped in Nina's furs. He calls a policeman! Ah,
genius is here! He gives the wrong address. He is
as cool as an orange!
"Do they escape now? Not so! He sees that
you, finding Nicris missing, will apply to the point-
policeman and get hold upon a thread. He says,
'I
will make it to appear that the robbery took place at
a later time. I will thus gain hours! Another police-
man will be on duty when the discovery is made;
he will know nothing.' He leaves Nina to pretend to
be Nicris!
"Ah! she has courage, but her fears are many
Most of all she dreads that you will touch her! You
do not. And Jean, the ivory statue safe at Clap-
ham, returns for Nina. He comes into the doctor's
drive by the farther gate-where the point-policeman
cannot see him. He wears rubber shoes. He mounts
to the studio roof. He lies flat upon the ledge above
the door. His voice is falsetto. He calls, 'Nicris!'
"Presently, you come out. You peep over the
wall. Ah! out, also, is Madame! She stretches up
her white arms-so like the real ivory!-he stretches
down his steel hands. He raises her beside him!
Name of a dog, he is strong!
The
"Why to the roof and not over the wall?
path is of gravel and her feet are bare. On the roof,
to prove me correct, upon the grime are marks of
CASE OF THE IVORY STATUE
123
small bare feet; are marks of men's rubber shoes;
are, halfway along, marks of smaller rubber shoes-
which he had brought for Nina. He has forethought.
They retire by the farther gate of your neighbour's
drive.
"No doubt he bring her furs as well-no doubt.
But she contracts a chill, no wonder! Ah! he is
cool, he is daring, he is a great man-
A maid entered the studio.
"A gentleman to see you, sir."
"Ask him to come along here.'
99
99
A short interval-and Jean Colette entered, hat
in hand!
"These two wedges, m'sieur"-he bowed to
Paxton-"which help to attach the girdle. I forgot
to return them. Adieu!"
He placed the wedges on a table and, amid a
dramatic silence, withdrew.
Moris Klaw took out the cylindrical scent spray
from the lining of the brown bowler.
"A true touch of Paris!" he rumbled. “Did I
not say he was a great man?"
I
FIFTH EPISODE
CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH
I
NSPECTOR GRIMSBY called upon me one
evening, wearing a great glumness of countenance.
"Look here," said he, "I'm in a bit of a corner.
You'll have heard that a committee of commercial
magnates has been formed to buy, and on behalf of
the City of London to present to the Crown, the big
Indian diamond?”
I nodded and pushed the box of cigarettes toward
him.
"Well," he continued, thoughtfully selecting one,
"they are meeting in Moorgate Street to-morrow
morning to complete the deal and formally take over
the stone.
Sir Michael Cayley, the Lord Mayor, will
be present, and he's received a letter, which has been
passed on to me."
He fumbled for his pocket-case. Grimsby is a
man who will go far. He is the youngest detective-
inspector in the service, and he has that priceless
gift-the art of using other people for the furtherance
of his own ends. I do not intend this criticism un-
124
CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH 125
kindly. Grimsby does nothing dishonourable and
seeks to rob no man of the credit that may be due.
There is nothing underhand about Grimsby, but he
is exceedingly diplomatic. He imparts official secrets
to me with an ingenuousness entirely disarming-but
always for reasons of his own.
"Here you are," he said, and passed a letter to
me.
It read as follows:
"To the Right Hon. the Lord Mayor of London.
"MY LORD:
"Beware that the Blue Rajah is not stolen on
Wednesday the 13th inst. Do not lose sight of it for
one moment.
"Your Lordship's obedient servant,
"MORIS KLAW."
"You see," continued Grimsby, "Wednesday the
thirteenth is to-morrow, when the thing is being
brought to Moorgate Street. Naturally, Sir Michael
communicated with the Yard, and as I'm in the know
about Moris Klaw, I got the job of looking into the
matter. I was at the Mansion House this morning."
"I suppose Sir Michael regards this note with
suspicion?"
"Well, he's not silly enough to suppose that any-
body who thought of stealing the diamond would
drop him a line advising him of the matter! But he'd
126
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
never heard of Moris Klaw until I explained about
him. When I told him that Klaw had a theory
about the Cycle of Crime, and his letter probably
meant that, according to said theory, on Wednesday
the thirteenth the Blue Rajah was due to be lifted, so
to speak, he laughed. You'll have noticed that
people mostly laugh at first about Moris Klaw?"
"Certainly. You did, yourself!"
“I know it—and I'm suffering for it! Klaw won't
lift his little finger when I ask him; and as for his
daughter, she giggles as though she was looking at
a comedian when she looks at me! She thinks I'm
properly funny!"
"You've been to Wapping, then?"
"Yes, this afternoon. The Lord Mayor wanted a
lot of convincing that Moris Klaw was on the straight
after I'd told him that the old gentleman was a dealer
in curios in the East End. Finally, he suggested
that I should find out what the warning meant
exactly. But I couldn't get to see Klaw; his daughter
said he was out."
"I suppose every precaution will be taken?"
"To-morrow morning we have arranged that I and
two other C.I.D. men are to accompany the party to
the safe deposit vaults to fetch the diamond and we
shall guard it on the way back afterward."
"Who's going to fetch it?"
"Sir John Carron, representing the India Office,
Mr. Mark Anderson-the expert-representing the
CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH
127
city, and Mr. Gautami Chinje, representing the
Gaekwar of Nizam. I was wondering"-he sur-
veyed the burning end of his cigarette-"if you had
time to run down to Wapping yourself and find out
from what direction we ought to look for trouble?"
"Sorry, Grimsby," I replied; "I would do it with
pleasure, but my evening is fully taken up. Person-
ally, it appears to me that Moris Klaw's warning was
a timely one. You seem to be watching the stone
pretty closely."
"Like a cat watches a mouse!" he rapped. “If
any one steals the Blue Rajah to-morrow, he'll be
a clever fellow."
II
Basinghall House, Moorgate Street, is built
around a courtyard. You enter under an archway,
and find offices before you, offices to right and offices
to left. As a matter of fact, Basinghall House was
designed for a hotel, but subsequently let off in suites
of chambers. The offices of Messrs. Anderson &
Brothers are on the left, as you enter, and from the
window of the principal's sanctum you may look
down into the courtyard.
The room chosen for the meeting on Wednesday
morning, however, was one opening off this. In
common with the adjoining office as I have said,
that of the principal-it had a second door, opening
on a corridor. This latter door, however, was never
128
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
used and was always kept double-locked. Thus, the
doorway from the other office was really its only
means of entrance or egress.
a prospect of the courtyard.
A large window offered
At a quarter to eleven on Wednesday morning,
Mr. Anderson (one of the City Aldermen) entered his
own private office from the corridor. He was ac-
companied by Sir John Carron, Mr. Gautami Chini,
and Inspector Grimsby. These three had come with
him from the safe deposit vaults. Mr. Anderson had
possession of the case containing the diamond.
In the office, already awaiting the party, were
Sir Michael Cayley (the Lord Mayor); Mr. Morrison
Dell, of the Goldsmiths & Silversmiths Company;
Sir Vernon Rankin (ex-Lord Mayor); Mr. Werner,
of the great engineering firm; and Mr. Anderson,
junior. These constituted the Presentation Com-
mittee duly appointed by the City of London (ex-
cluding, of course, Sir John Carron, of the India
Office; Mr. Chinje, representing the vendor of the
jewel; and Mr. Grimsby, representing New Scotland
Yard).
"We are all present, gentlemen," said Mr. Ander-
son. "But before we proceed to the business which
brings us here, we will enter the inner room, where
we shall be quite private."
Accordingly the party of eight passed through the
doorway; and Mr. Anderson, senior, entering last,
CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH
129
relocked the door behind him. Inspector Grimsby
remained alone in the private office.
Eight oaken chairs and a small oaken table bearing
a pewter inkpot, two pens, and a blotting pad
represent, with a square of red carpet and a framed
photograph bearing the legend: "Jagersfontein Dia-
mond Workings, Orange Free State, 1909," an
inventory of the furniture.
The company being seated, Mr. Anderson, by the
table, rose and said:
66
'Gentlemen, our business this morning can be
briefly dealt with. I have here"-he produced a
leather case, opened it, and placed it on the table
before him-"the diamond known as the Blue
Rajah. Its history may be summarized thus: It
appeared in the year 1680 and is supposed to have
been found in the Kollur Mine, on the Kostna. It
had a weight of 254 carats in the rough, but was
reduced to 132 carats in the cutting. It has been
successively owned by Nadir Shah, Princess de
Lambelle, the Sultan Abdúl Hámid, Mr. Simon
Rabstein of New York, and, finally, the Gaekwar of
Nizam. It has no flaws; in fact, two of the original
facets were retained when the stone passed through
the cutter's hands. It is rose cut and its colour is
of the finest water, having the rare blue tint."
He paused, raising the diamond from its receptacle,
and holding it in his hand. The sunlight, pouring in
130
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
through the window, struck flame-spears from the
wonderful thing.
"In fact, gentlemen," he concluded, "the Blue
Rajah is a fitting offering for the City of London to
make to the Crown."
"Hear, hear!" chorused the others; and the
diamond was passed from hand to hand. The formal
business of making over the stone to the Committee
was then transacted. A huge check was placed in
the pocket-case of Mr. Gautami Chinje, autographs
were affixed to two formidable documents; and the
Blue Rajah became the property of the loyal City of
London.
"You see," said Sir John Carron, holding the stone
daintily between thumb and forefinger, and pointing,
lecturer-fashion, "the diamond is perfectly propor-
tioned, being a full three fifths as deep as it is broad."
"Quite so," agreed Mr. Morris Dell, looking over
his shoulder.
"It is the most perfectly proportioned stone I
have ever handled, Sir John," said the younger
Mr. Anderson-and he stood back surveying the
gem with the caressing glance of a connoisseur.
Sir John turned and tenderly laid the diamond in
its case. At which moment, exactly, arose a blood-
curdling scream in the courtyard below.
"Good Lord!" cried Mr. Werner. "What is
that?"
There was a crowded rush to the window-those
CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH
131
in the second rank peering over the heads and shoul-
ders of those in the first. The horrid cries continued,
in a choking yet shrill crescendo.
"Ah! God in Heaven! You are killing me!
No! No! Mercy!
Mercy!
·
99
O
Mercy!
·
"It is someone in the archway," said Sir Vernon
Rankin, excitedly. "Can any of you see him?”
No one could, though all craned necks vigor-
ously.
"Unfortunately, the window cannot be opened,"
cried Mr. Anderson. "The catch has jammed in
some way. I am having it removed immediately."
The cries ceased. People were running about
below, and the blue uniform of a city constable
showed among the group in the archway.
"I'll run down and see what has happened," said
Mr. Chinje, stepping to the door which opened on the
corridor. "Hullo! it is locked!"
Young Mr. Anderson turned to him with a smile.
"Both doors are locked, Mr. Chinje," he said.
"For the time being we are virtually prisoners."
"Give me the case," said his father, selecting the
key of the door communicating with his private office.
"There is no occasion for further delay.'
""
The Lord Mayor turned from the window, through
which he had still been vainly peering, and stepped to
the table.
"Mr. Anderson!"
332
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
"Yes?" said the latter, glancing back, keys in
hand.
"Have you the diamond?"
66
Certainly not!"
"Then who has it?"
No one had it. But the case was empty!
III
Mr. Anderson replaced the keys in his pocket.
His ruddy face suddenly had grown pale. Sir
Michael Cayley, the empty case in his hand, stood
staring across the room like a man dazed. Then he
forced speech to his lips.
"Gentlemen," he said, "since it is physically
impossible for the diamond to have left this room, in
this room it must be searched for-and found. First,
is it by any chance upon the floor?"
A brief examination showed that it was not.
"Then," continued Sir Michael, "the painful con-
clusion is unavoidable that it is upon someone's
person!"
An angry murmur arose. Mr. Anderson raised his
hand.
"Gentlemen," he said, "Sir Michael states no
more than the fact."
And, his face remaining very pale, he removed his
coat and waitscoat and threw them upon the table,
emptied his trouser pockets and turned out the lin-
ings.
7
CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH
133
"Be good enough to examine them, gentlemen,"
he said.
There was a momentary hesitation; but the Lord
Mayor stepped forward and in a businesslike way
examined the contents of the several pockets. He
turned to Mr. Anderson.
"Thank you," he said. "If the others are satis-
fied, I am."
There was a murmur of assent; and as the owner
of the office picked up his property, Sir Michael, in
turn, submitted himself to examination. All the
others followed suit, without further hesitation. And
the result of the inquiry was nil.
Eight anxious faces surrounded the little table.
"I suggest," said Mr. Anderson, quietly, "that we
admit the detective who is in my office. His ex-
perience may enable him to succeed where we have
failed."
All agreeing, the communicating door was opened.
Mr. Anderson, without quitting the room, called to
Inspector Grimsby. The inspector entered. The
door was relocked.
"Inspector," said Mr. Anderson, "the diamond is
missing!"
Whereupon Grimsby's eyes opened widely in
amazement.
"Are you sure, sir?"
"Unfortunately, I cannot doubt it."
"When did you last see it?"
134
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
"At the moment when that uproar broke out
below," said Mr. Dell.
“Ah,” murmured Grimsby, thoughtfully. "You
all rushed to the window, I expect?"
"Exactly."
"Leaving the diamond on the table?"
"Yes."
"That's when it was stolen!"
"Very possibly, Inspector," said the Lord Mayor,
a stoutly built man with an imperious manner. "But
who took it and where did he conceal it?"
"You must all submit to be searched, gentlemen!"
"We have already done so."
"I am more used to that sort of thing. Do you all
agree to being searched by me?"
All did. The previous performance was repeated.
Grimsby not only searched the garments but passed
his hands all over the persons of the eight, even
making them open their mouths and tapping at their
teeth with a lead pencil!
"I did some I.D.B. work in South Africa," he
explained. "It's wonderful where a clever man can
hide a diamond."
But no diamond was found!
The better to bring home to those who read these
records the truly amazing nature of this circum-
stance, I will explain again, here, the construction
and furniture of the apartment.
It was a small room, some fourteen feet by eighteen.
CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH
135
It contained eight oak chairs and an oak table; a
red carpet; its walls were distempered and bare,
save
for the framed photograph previously mentioned.
The one window was closed and fastened. The door
opening on the corridor was double-locked. Save
when it had been opened to admit Grimsby, the
door communicating with the next office had also
been locked throughout the course of the meeting.
There was no fireplace. Ventilation was provided
for by a small, square ventilator above the corridor
door.
Having convinced himself that the diamond was
not upon the person of any one present, Inspector
Grimsby took but two or three minutes to satisfy
himself that it was not concealed elsewhere.
"Gentlemen," he said, slowly, “the Blue Rajah
is not in this room!"
The Lord Mayor glared. He was a director of the
company with which the diamond was insured.
"My good man," he said, "it isn't humanly
possible for anything-anything-to have gone out
of this room since we entered it!"
"I'm disposed to agree with you, sir,” replied
Grimsby. "But at the same time I'll stake my
reputation that the diamond isn't inside these four
walls! Although my search of you gentlemen was a
mere formality, I assure you it was thorough. I've
searched a few score Kaffirs and I know my business.
As to the room itself, it's as bare as a drawing board.
136
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
A child could find the smallest bead in it inside
twenty seconds. You can take it from me as a stone
certainty that the diamond has gone!"
"Then we are wasting precious time!" cried
Sir Michael. "Commence the pursuit at once,
Inspector!"
Grimsby's jaw shot out doggedly.
"If you could give me a hint where to begin,
sir," he said, "I shouldn't waste another second!"
"Hang it all, that's your business, my man!"
"I know it is, sir. But I'm only a poor human
policeman, after all. We sha'n't gain anything by
getting angry, shall we? This room, to all intents
and purposes, is a locked box from which something
has been abstracted without lifting the lid. That's
a conjuring trick, and as puzzling to me as it is to
you.
""
Sir Michael softened. Inspector Grimsby is not a
man who can be browbeaten.
"Quite right, Inspector," he said; "I recognize
the difficulties. But this loss is horrible. It reflects
upon all of us-all of us. If the news of this theft
leaks out-if the stone cannot be recovered-a cer-
tain stigma I cannot blind myself to the fact—a
certain stigma will attach to our personal integrity.
Clean as our records may be, we cannot hope to
escape it. For God's sake, Inspector, set your wits to
work."
CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH
137
Indeed, those were anxious faces that surrounded
the detective. Suddenly-
"Ah!" cried the Lord Mayor, "the man Klaw!
On his own showing he knows something of this
matter! Mr. Grimsby-
""
Grimsby held up his hand and nodded.
"With your permission, gentlemen," he said, "I
will try to get into communication with Moris Klaw
at once.
my
"Good," said Mr. Anderson; "and meanwhile,
whilst we await the result of your efforts, Inspector,
I suggest, in the interests of all, that we lunch in
office. It may be inconvenient for many of you,
but for my own part I am anxious to remain on these
premises until we have news of the whereabouts of
the diamond.”
The proposal was carried unanimously. No one
of those substantial men of affairs was anxious to lay
himself open to the suspicion of having removed the
great Blue Rajah from the office! For, as Sir Michael
quite justly had pointed out, where a diamond worth
an emperor's ransom is concerned, reputations melt
like ice beneath a tropical sun.
In this way, then, I found myself concerned in the
case; for Grimsby hastened to call me up, begging
me to urge the retiring Moris Klaw to quit his
Wapping haunt, to which he clung like Diogenes to
his wooden cavern, and to journey to Moorgate
'138
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
Street. Fortunately, I was in my rooms, and, will-
ing enough to enjoy an opportunity of studying Klaw
at work, I despatched a district messenger to him,
trusting that he would be at his shop.
Since evidently he had apprehended that an at-
tempt would be made this morning, I did not doubt
that he would be at home. Indeed, he rang me up
less than half an hour later and arranged to meet me
at Mr. Anderson's office.
"I warned him-that Lord Mayor," came his
rumbling continental tones along the wire, "how he
must not let it out of his sight. He ignored me.
So! Ring him up immediately, and tell him to have
ready for me hot black coffee. It stimulates the
inner perception when green tea is not obtainable."
Without delay I followed Moris Klaw's instruc-
tions, and then hurried out and into a cab. My
duties, as Klaw's biographer-self-appointed-for-
bade my delaying.
We arrived at Basinghall House simultaneously.
Our cabs drew up one behind the other. Except for
the presence of Inspector Grimsby at the entrance,
there was nothing to show that a stupendous robbery
had been committed there less than an hour before.
As I descended, Grimsby ran and opened the door of
the other cab. He offered his hand to the beautiful
girl who was within, according her all the nervous
deference due to a queen.
And indeed no queen of ancient times could have
CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH
139
looked more queenly than Isis Klaw-no Hatshepsu
could have carried herself more regally. She wore a
dark, close-fitting costume and ermine furs. In con-
trast to the snowy peltry, her large black eyes and
perfect red lips rendered her a study for the brush of
a painter, but, like her Oriental grace, defied the pen
of the scribe.
Moris Klaw's daughter, her dazzling beauty
enhanced by all the feminine arts of Paris, was
a rare exotic one would not have sought in the
neighbourhood of Wapping Old Stairs. But her
father afforded a contrast at least as singular as her
residence.
Behind this seductive vision he appeared, en-
veloped in his caped coat, his yellow bearded face
crowned by the brown bowler of Early Victorian
pattern-indeed, apparently of Early Victorian
manufacture. He peered at the taximeter through
his gold-rimmed pince-nez.
"Two and tenpence," he rumbled, hoarsely.
"That meter requires inspection, my friend. I have
watched it popping up those two pennies, and I have
perceived that it does so every time the cab bumps
upon a drain-hole. I am to pay, then, for all the
drains between Wapping and Moorgate Street.
Here it is three shillings. One and fourpence for
the company and one and eightpence for yourself."
He turned aside, raising his hat.
"Good morning, Mr. Searles! Good morning,
140
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
Mr. Grimsby! I shall charge the City of London one
and sixpence for drains. Let us walk on as far as the
courtyard I see yonder, and you shall tell me all the
facts before I interview those others, who will be, of
course, so prejudiced by their misfortune."
We passed on, and many a clerkly glance fol-
lowed the furry figure of Isis beneath the archway.
Hemmed in by offices, a certain quietude prevailed
in the courtyard.
"It is a chilly morning," said Moris Klaw; "but
here we will stop and talk."
Accordingly Grimsby related the known facts of
the case, more often addressing his story to the girl
than to her father.
"Yes, yes," growled the latter, when the tale was
told; "and this crying out-this screaming of mur-
der-what occasioned it?"
"That's the mystery!" explained the detective.
"I wish I had run out at once. I might have learned
something. As it is, all I can find out amounts to
nothing. The clerks and porters and other people
who came flocking to the scene found no one here who
knew anything about it!"
"The screamer was missing, eh?”
"Vanished! I can't help thinking it was a ruse;
though what anybody profited by it isn't clear."
"It is not clear, you say?" rumbled Moris Klaw.
"Ah! you have a fog of the mentality, my friend!"
Grimsby flushed.
CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH 141
"Of course," he added, hurriedly, "I can see that
it served to divert the attention of the people who
ought to have been guarding the diamond.
But as
both the doors and the window were locked, how did
it help to get the stone out of the office?"
Moris Klaw pulled reflectively at his scanty
beard.
"We shall see," he rumbled. "Let us ascend."
We entered the lift and went up to the office of
Messrs. Anderson & Brothers. The Presentation
Committee were awaiting the mysterious Moris Klaw
but had not anticipated a visit from a pretty woman.
They were prepared to adopt toward the man who
would seem to have had some foreknowledge of the
robbery a certain attitude of suspicion. It was
amusing to note the change of front when Isis
entered. Moris Klaw singled out the Lord Mayor
and the owner of the office with unerring instinct.
He removed his hat.
"Good morning, Mr. Anderson!" he said. "Good
morning, Sir Michael! Good morning, gentlemen!"
"This is Mr. Moris Klaw," explained Grimsby,
"and Miss Klaw. Mr. Searles."
Mr. Anderson hastened to place chairs. We be-
came seated. Following a short interval, Sir Michael
Cayley cleared his throat.
"We are―er-indebted to you, Mr. Klaw," he
began, "for taking this trouble. But, in view of
your note to me-
دو
142
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
Moris Klaw raised his hand.
"So simple," he said, whilst the Committee
watched him, puzzled and surprised—that is, those
who were not watching Isis did so. "I have a
library, you understand, of records dealing with such
historic gems. To show you that I have made some
study of these matters I will tell you that the diamond
called the Blue Rajah was discovered on the morn-
ing of April the thirteenth, 1680, in the Kollur
Mine, and stolen the same evening!"
"What is your authority for the exact date,
Mr. Klaw?" asked Anderson, with interest; "and for
the statement that the diamond was stolen on the
day of its discovery?"
"Fact, Mr. Anderson, is my authority," was the
rumbling reply, "and I can tell you more. The
diamond is the birth stone of the month of April,
and this diamond was itself born on the thirteenth of
that month. To illustrate how its history is associ-
ated with April, I shall only tell you of the beautiful
and unhappy Marie de Lamballe. This great
diamond was presented to her on the ninth of April,
1790, and taken from her on the twelfth of April,
1792, after her return from England, and only six
months before her fair head was stuck upon a pike
and held up to the Queen's window!"
He paused impressively, waving his long hands in
the air.
"I could recount to you," he resumed, “many
CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH
143
such incidents in the history of the Blue Rajah-and
all took place within a week of its birthday! What
day is to-day?"
"Why, it's the thirteenth of April!" said Sir
Michael Cayley, with a start.
"The thirteenth of April," rumbled Moris Klaw.
"For many years the diamond has been too closely
guarded for any new incident to occur, but when I
learn how to-day it is to be brought here, how many
hands will touch it, how many eyes will look upon
it, I know that there is danger! Its history repeats.
These incidents"-again he waved his hands-"pro-
ceed in cycles. I warned you. But it was perhaps
inevitable. The Cycle of Crime is as inevitable and
immutable as the cycle of the ages. Man's will has
no power to check it."
Everyone in the room was deeply impressed.
Indeed, no one could have failed to recognize in the
speaker a man of powerful mind, one of penetrating
and unusual intellect.
"Had I had the good fortune to meet you, Mr.
Klaw," said the Lord Mayor, "I should have at-
tached a greater, and-er-a different, significance
to your note. Your theories are strange ones, but
to-day they have received strange and ample sub-
stantiation. I can only hope-and I do so with
every confidence in your great ability"-Moris Klaw
rose and bowed-"that you will be able to re-
cover the diamond whose loss you so truly predicted."
144
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
"I will ask you," replied Moris Klaw, "to have
sent in to me the black coffee. Myself, my daughter,
Mr. Searles, and Mr. Grimsby will view the room
from which the robbery took place."
"You would wish us to remain here?" asked Mr.
Anderson, glancing at the others.
"I would so wish it, yes."
"I hope, Mr. Klaw," said Sir Michael Cayley,
"that you will not hesitate to send me an account of
your fee and expenditures."
"I shall not so hesitate," replied Moris Klaw.
IV
We entered the small room from which the Blue
Rajah had been spirited away. Grimsby, who was
badly puzzled, was evidently glad of Klaw's co-
operation. Moris Klaw's letter of warning, leading
to the request for Moris Klaw's attendance, had en-
abled the Scotland Yard man to summon that keen
intellect to his aid without compromising his pro-
fessional reputation. He would lose no credit that
might accrue if the gem were recovered and, in
short, was congratulating himself upon a diplomatic
move.
"It's beyond me," he said, "how the thing was got
out of the room. With this door shut, the window
fastened, and the other door double-locked, as it
always is, practically the place is a box."
Moris Klaw, from its hiding place in the lining of
CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH
145
his hat, took out the scent spray and squirted ver-
bena upon his face.
"A box-yes," he rumbled; "and so stuffy. No
air."
"There's no ventilation," explained Grimsby.
"That square hole over the door is intended for
ventilation, but as there's no corresponding aperture
over the window or elsewhere it's useless. Anyway,
it only opens on the passage."
"Ah. You searched them all quite thoroughly?"
"Certainly; like Kaffirs. But I didn't expect to
find it."
"Blessed is he who expecteth little. Isis, my child,
there is someone knocking.'
""
Isis opened the door communicating with Mr.
Anderson's office, and a boy entered carrying a tray
with a coffee pot and cup upon it.
"Good," said Moris Klaw. "I shall not sleep in
this room, Mr. Searles. It is difficult to sleep in the
morning and I cannot wait for night. I shall sit here
at this table for one hour with my mind a perfect
blank. I shall think of nothing. That is a great
art, Mr. Searles-to think of nothing. Few people
but ascetics can do it. Try it for yourself, and you
will find that thinking of trying not to think is the
nearest you will get to it! I shall expose my mind, a
sensitive blank, to the etheric waves created here by
mental emotion.
"I shall secure many alien impressions of horror
146
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
at finding the Blue Rajah to be missing. That is
unavoidable. But I hope, amongst all these, to find
that other thought-thing-the fear of the robber at
the critical moment of his crime! That should be a
cogent and forceful thought-keener and therefore
stronger to survive, because a thought of danger but
of gain, than the thoughts of loss with which this
atmosphere is laden."
He stood up, removing his caped coat and revealing
the shabby tweed suit which he wore. A big French
knot of black silk looked grotesquely out of place
beneath his yellow face with its edging of toneless
beard.
"Isis," he said, "lay my cloak carefully upon
that chair by the window. I will sit there."
Grimsby stepped forward to assist.
"No, no!" said Isis, but smiled enchantingly.
"No hand but mine must touch it until my father has
secured his impression!"
She laid the coat upon the chair, completely cover-
ing it; and Moris Klaw sat down.
"Another cup of coffee," he said; and his daughter
poured one out and handed it to him. "This is
Java coffee and truly not coffee at all. There is no
coffee but Mocha-a thing you English will never
learn. Return in an hour, gentlemen. Isis, ask
that no disturbing sound is allowed within or with-
That Committee, it can go home. None of it
out.
has the diamond."
CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH
147
"And the other gentlemen?" asked Grimsby.
"They'll be anxious to get about their business,
too. There's Sir John Carron from the India
Office and Mr. Gautami Chinje-the Gaekwar's
representative."
"Of course certainly," mused Moris Klaw.
"But, of course, too, they will all be anxious to know
immediately the result of my inquiries. Listen-Mr.
Anderson will remain; he can represent the city.
Mr. Chinje, you will perhaps ask him to remain, to
represent the Gaekwar-the vendor; and Sir John
Carron, he might be so good. Make those arrange-
ments, Mr. Grimsby, and let nothing again disturb
me.
99
We left him, returning to the outer office.
Sir John Carron expressed himself willing to
remain.
"If I may use your telephone for a moment, Mr.
Anderson," he said, "I can put off an engagement."
Mr. Chinje had no other engagement, and Mr.
Anderson's duties had detained him in any event.
There was some general, but subdued, conversation
before the rest of the party left; but finally Sir John,
Chinje, Grimsby, Isis Klaw, and myself found our-
selves in a waiting room on the opposite side of the
corridor, provided with refreshments, and the gentle-
men of the party with cigars, whilst the hospitable
and deeply anxious Messrs. Anderson piled the table
with periodical literature for our entertainment.
148
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
It was a curious interlude, which I shall always
remember.
Sir John Carron, a tall, bronzed military man,
middle-aged and perfectly groomed, surveyed Isis
Klaw through his monocle with undisguised admi-
ration. She bore this scrutiny with the perfect com-
posure which was hers, and presently engaged the
admiring baronet in some conversation about India,
in which Mr. Chinje presently joined. Chinje had
all the quiet self-possession of a high-caste Hindu, and
his dark handsome face exhibited no signs of annoy-
ance when Sir John adopted that tone of breezy
patronage characteristic of some Anglo-Indian of-
ficers who find themselves in the company of a well-
bred native. Grimsby, with recognition of his social
inferiority written large upon him, smoked, for the
most part, in silence-Isis having given him per-
mission to light up. Seeing his covert glances at
this intimate trio, I ultimately succeeded in making
the conversation a general one, thereby earning the
Scotland Yard man's evident gratitude.
"You know, Inspector Grimsby," said Sir John,
"I never was searched before to-day! But, by Jove,
you did it very efficiently! I was dreadfully tempted
to strike you when you calmly turned out my purse!
Your method was far more workmanlike than Sir
Michael Cayley's a few minutes earlier. He forgot
to look in my watch case, but you didn't!"
Grimsby smiled.
CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH
149
"There's more in a simple thing like searching a
man than most people take into consideration,” he
replied. "I've known a Kaffir in the mines who-
excuse me, Miss Klaw-wore no more than Adam, to
walk off with stones worth my year's wages."
"I'm prepared to accept your assurance, In-
spector," said Sir John, "that none of us had the
diamond about our persons.
99
"My father has accepted it," added Isis Klaw;
"and that is conclusive."
Which brought us face to face again with the amaz-
ing problem that we were there to solve. How,
by any known natural law, had the Blue Rajah been
taken out of the room? None of us could conjecture.
That the detective was hopelessly mystified, his
inaction, awaiting the result of Moris Klaw's séance,
was sufficient proof. I wondered if the Commissioner
would have approved of his passive attitude and
entire dependence upon the efforts of an amateur, yet
failed to perceive what other he could adopt. One
thing was certain: if the diamond was recovered,
its recovery would be recorded among Detective-
Inspector Grimsby's successful cases! And there he
sat placidly smoking one of Mr. Anderson's habanas.
At the expiration of the hour specified, Isis Klaw
rose and walked across to Mr. Anderson's office.
Mr. Anderson, his ruddy face-typically that of a
lowland Scot-a shade paler than was its wont, I
fancy, was glancing from his watch to the clock.
150
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
Isis knocked on the inner door, opened it, and
entered. Sir John Carron was watching with intense
interest. Mr. Chinje met my glance and smiled a
little sceptically.
Moris Klaw came out with his caped coat on and
carrying his bowler in his hand.
"Gentlemen," he said, “I have secured a mental
negative, somewhat foggy, owing to those other
thought forms with which the atmosphere is laden.
But I have identified him—the thief!"
A sound like a gasp repressed came from some-
where immediately behind me. I turned. Mr.
Anderson and Mr. Anderson, junior, stood at my
elbow; close by were Mr. Chinje, Grimsby, and Sir
John Carron.
"Who snorts?" rumbled Moris Klaw, peering
through his pince-nez.
"Not I," said Sir John, staring about him.
We all, in turn, denied having uttered the sound.
"Then there is in this office a ghost," declared
Klaw, "or a liar!"
"Excuse me, Mr. Klaw," began Mr. Anderson,
with some heat.
Moris Klaw raised his hand. His daughter's
magnificent eyes blazed defiance at us all.
"No anger," implored the rumbling voice. "No
anger. Anger is a misuse of the emotions. There
are present eight persons here. Someone snorted.
CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH
151
Eight persons deny the snort. It is a ghost or a liar.
Am I evident to you?"
Your logic is irrefutable," admitted the younger
Mr. Anderson, glancing from face to face. "It pains
me to have to admit that you are right!"
In turn, I examined the faces of those present.
Grimsby was a man witless with wonder. Both the
Andersons were embarrassed and angry. Isis Klaw
was scornfully triumphant; her father was, as ever,
nonchalant. Sir John Carron looked ill at ease;
Mr. Chinje appeared to have changed his opinion of
the eccentric investigator and now studied him with
the calm interest of the cultured Oriental.
"I shall now make you laugh," said Moris Klaw.
"I shall tell you what he was thinking of at the
psychological instant-that mysterious thief. He
was thinking of two things. One was a very pretty,
fair young lady, and the other was a funny thing.
He was thinking of throwing twelve peanuts into a
parrot's cage!"
V
There are speeches so entirely unexpected that
their effect is unappreciable until some little time
after the utterance. This speech of Moris Klaw's
was of that description. For some moments no one
seemed to grasp exactly what he had said, simple
though his words had been. Then, it was borne
152
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
home to us-that grotesque declaration; and I think
I have never seen men more amazed.
Could he be jesting?
"Mr. Klaw" began Sir John Carron.
But-
"One moment, Sir John," interrupted Klaw.
"Let all remain here for one moment.
turn.'
99
I shall re-
Whilst we stared, like so many fools, he shuffled
from the office with his awkward gait. During his
brief absence no one spoke. We were restrained,
undoubtedly, by the presence of Isis Klaw, who, one
hand upon her hip and with the other swinging her
big ermine muff, smiled at us with a sort of pitying
scorn for our stupidity.
Moris Klaw returned.
"Let me see," he rumbled, reflectively, "have you,
Sir John Carron or Mr. Chinje, a specimen of the
handwriting of the Gaekwar of Nizam?"
Chinje and Sir John stared.
"At the office-possibly," replied Sir John.
"I have my instructions, signed by him," said Mr.
Chinje. "But not here."
"At your hotel, yes?"
"Yes," replied Chinje, shortly.
He gave me the impression that he resented Moris
Klaw's catechizing as that of a fool and an incompe-
tent meddler with affairs of great importance.
"Then, gentlemen," said Klaw, "we must adjourn
to examine that signature.'
1
CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH
153
"Really," the younger Mr. Anderson burst out,
"I must protest against this! You will pardon me,
Mr. Klaw; I believe you to be sincere in your efforts
on our behalf, but such an expedition can be no more
than a wild-goose chase! What can the Gaekwar's
signature have to do with the theft of the diamond?"
"I will tell you something, my feverish friend,"
said Moris Klaw, slowly. "The Blue Rajah is not
on these premises. It is gone! It went before I
came. If it is ever to come back you will put on your
hat and accompany me to examine the signature to
Mr. Chinje's instructions."
"I must add my protest to Mr. Anderson's," re-
marked Chinje. "This is mere waste of time.'
99
"Mr. Grimsby," resumed Klaw, placidly, "it is a
case to be hushed up, this. There must be no
arrests!"
"Eh?” cried Grimsby.
"Sir John Carron will ring up the Commissioner
and he will say that Detective-Inspector Grimsby has
traced the Blue Rajah, which was stolen, but that,
for reasons of state, Detective-Inspector Grimsby
will make a confidential report and no arrest!"
"Really-
"began Sir John.
"Mr. Klaw," cried Anderson, interrupting ex-
citedly. "You are jesting with men who are faced
by a desperate position! I ask you, as man to man,
if you know who stole the Blue Rajah and where it
is?"
154
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
"I reply," rumbled Moris Klaw, "that I suspect
who stole it, that I am doubtful how it was stolen,
and that when I have examined the Gaekwar's sig-
nature I may know where it is!"
His reply had a tone of finality quite unanswerable.
His attitude was that of a stone wall; and he had,
too, something of the rugged strength of such a wall-
of a Roman wall, commanding respect.
Sir John got into communication with the Com-
missioner, as desired by Klaw, and we all left the
office and went down in the lift to the hall.
"Two cabs will be needful," said Moris Klaw; and
two cabs were summoned.
Sir John Carron, the Andersons, and Moris Klaw
entered one; Isis Klaw, Grimsby, Chinje, and I the
other.
"The Hotel Astoria," directed Chinje.
Throughout the drive to the Strand, Isis chatted
to Grimsby, to his great delight. Mr. Chinje con-
tented himself with monosyllabic replies to my oc-
casional observations. He seemed to be disgusted
with the manner in which the inquiry was being
conducted. When the two cabs drove into the court-
yard of the hotel, the one in which I was seated
followed the other. Mr. Chinje, on my left, de-
scended first, and Moris Klaw also descended first
from the cab in front. As he did so he stumbled on
the step and clutched at Chinje for support. Isis
leapt forward to his assistance.
CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH 155
"Ah," growled Klaw, hobbling painfully, and
resting one hand upon Chinje's shoulder and the
other upon his daughter's. "That foolish ankle of
mine! How unfortunate! An accident, Mr. Chinje,
which I met with in Egypt. I fell quite twenty feet
in the shaft of a tomb and broke my ankle. At the
least strain, I suffer yet."
"Allow me, Mr. Chinje," said Grimsby, stepping
forward.
"No, no!" rumbled Klaw. "If you will hand me
my hat which I have dropped, and see that my ver-
bena has not fallen out-thank you-Mr. Chinje
and Isis will be so good as to walk with me to the lift.
A few moments' rest in Mr. Chinje's apartments
will restore me."
""
This arrangement accordingly was adopted, and
we presently came to the rooms occupied by the
Gaekwar's representative, upon the fourth floor of
the hotel. At the door, Mr. Chinje asked me to take
his place whilst he found his key.
I did so and Chinje opened the door. To my
great surprise he entered first. To my greater sur-
prise, Moris Klaw, scorning my assistance and ap-
parently forgetting his injury, rapidly followed him
in. The rest of us flocked behind, possessed with a
sense of something impending. We little knew what
impended.
One thing, as I entered the little sitting room,
struck my vision with a sensation almost of physical
156
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
shock. It was a large, empty parrot cage standing
on the table!
I had an impression that Chinje dashed forward
in a vain attempt to conceal the cage ere Moris
Klaw entered. I saw, as one sees figures in a dream,
a pretty, fair-haired girl in the room. Then the
Hindu had leapt to an inner door-and was gone!
"Quick!" cried Klaw, in a loud voice. "The
door! The door!"
He brushed the girl aside with a sweep of his arm
and hurled himself against the locked door.
"Mr. Grimsby! Mr. Searles! Someone! Help
with this door. Isis! hold her back, this foolish girl!"
The inner meaning of the scene was a mystery to
us all, but the urgency of Moris Klaw's instructions
brooked no denial. With a shrill scream the girl
threw herself upon him, but Isis, exhibiting unsus-
pected strength, drew her away.
Then Sir John Carron joined Klaw at the door and
they applied their combined weights to the task of
forcing it open.
Once they put their shoulders to it; twice-and
there was a sound of tearing woodwork; a third time
-and it flew open, almost precipitating them both
into the room beyond. Hard on the din of the open-
ing rang the crack of a pistol shot. A wisp of smoke
came floating out.
"Ah, just God!" said Moris Klaw, hoarsely, "we
are too late!"
CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH
157
And, at his words, with a leap like that of a wild
thing, the fair girl broke from Isis, and passing us all,
entered the room beyond. Awed and fearful, we
followed and looked upon a pitiful scene.
Gautami Chinje lay dead upon the floor, a revolver
yet between his nerveless fingers and a red spot in
his temple. Beside him knelt the girl, plucking with
both hands at her lower lip, her face as white as paper
and her eyes glaring insanely at the distorted
features.
"Dearest," she kept whispering, in a listless way,
"my dearest-what is the matter? I have the
diamond-I have it in my bag. What is it, my
dearest?"
We got her away at last.
"He had only been in London six months," Moris
Klaw rumbled in my ear, "and you see, she adored
him-helped him to steal. It is wonderful, snake-
like, the power of fascination some Hindus have
over women—and always over blondes, Mr. Searles,
always blondes. It is a psychological problem.'
وو
So ended the case of the Blue Rajah robbery, one
of the most brief in the annals of Moris Klaw. The
great diamond we found in the girl's handbag,
wrapped in a curious little rubber covering, ap-
parently made to fit it.
"You see," explained Moris Klaw, later, to his
wondering audience, "this girl-I have yet to find
158
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
out who she is—was perhaps married to Mr. Chinje.
He would, of course, have deserted her directly he
returned to India. But here at the Astoria she was
known as Mrs. Chinje. Who would have been the
losers by the robbery? The insurance company, if
I do not mistake the case. For the Gaekwar,
through his representative, Chinje, had the diamond
insured for all the time it was his property and in
England, and the Committee had it insured from the
time it became their property. It had become their
property. The Gaekwar would have got his check.
He gets it now; it is in Chinje's pocket-case. The
city would have lost its Blue Rajah, and the insur-
ance company would have paid the city for the loss!
"The next office along the corridor from Mr.
Anderson's is the Central London Electric Lighting
Company. Many consumers call. Mrs. Chinje
was not suspected of any felonious purpose when she
was seen in that corridor-and she was seen by a
clerk and by an engineer. After my mental negative
had told me of a pretty young lady of whom the thief
thinks at the moment of his theft, I went to inquire-
you recall?-if such a one had been seen near the
office.
"From the first my suspicions are with Chinje.
The emotions have each a note, distinct, like the
notes of a piano, though only audible to the trained
mind. Both Isis and myself detect from Chinje the
note of fear. I arrange, then, that he remains. My
CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH
159
talk of examining the Gaekwar's writing is a ruse. It
is Chinje's apartment and the fair lady I expect to
find there that I am anxious to see.
"Then, in spite that he is the most cool of us all,
I see that he suspects me and I have to hold him fast;
for, if he could have got first to his room and hidden
the parrot cage, where had been our evidence? In-
deed, only that I have the power to secure the astral
negative, there had been no evidence at all. There
is a third accomplice him who howled in the court-
yard; but I fear, as he so cleverly vanished, we shall
never know his name.
"And how was it done, and why did this someone
howl?"
Moris Klaw paused and looked around. We
awaited his next words in tense silence.
"He howled because Chinje had looked out from
the window (which, though hidden, the howler was
watching) and made him some signal. The signal
meant: 'The Blue Rajah has been placed upon the
table-howl!"
"The one below obeyed, and the Committee, like
foolish sheep-yes, gentlemen, like no-headed cattle
things!—flocked to the window. But Chinje did not
flock with them! Like a deft-handed conjurer he
was at the table, the diamond was in the little rubber
purse held ready, and Mrs. Chinje, with her large
handbag open, was waiting outside the door, in the
corridor, like some new kind of wicket-keeper.
160
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
Chinje tossed the diamond through the little square
ventilator!
"He had been practising for weeks-ever since he
knew that the Committee would meet in that room-
tossing peanuts into the square opening of a parrot
cage, placed at the same height from the floor as the
ventilator over Mr. Anderson's doorway! He had
practised until he could do it twelve times without
missing. He had nerves like piano wires, yet he was
a deadly anxious man; and he knew that a woman
cannot catch!
"But she caught-or, if she dropped it, no one
saw her pick it up.
"Gentlemen, these Hindus are very clever, but
talking of their cleverness makes one very thirsty.
I think I heard Mr. Anderson make some cooling
speech about a bottle of wine!"
Ο
SIXTH EPISODE
CASE OF THE WHISPERING POPLARS
I
NE afternoon Moris Klaw walked into my
office and announced that "owing to alter-
ations" he had temporarily suspended busi-
ness at the Wapping emporium, and thus had found
time to give me a call. I always welcomed a chat
with that extraordinary man, and although I could
conceive of no really useful "alteration" to his un-
savoury establishment other than that of setting
fire to it, I made no inquiries, but placed an easy chair
for him and offered a cigar.
Moris Klaw removed his caped overcoat and
dropped it upon the floor. Upon this sartorial
wreckage he disposed his flat-topped brown bowler
and from it extracted the inevitable scent spray.
He sprayed his dome-like brow and bedewed his
toneless beard with verbena.
"So refreshing," he explained; "a custom of the
Romans, Mr. Searles. It is a very warm day.”
I admitted that this was so.
"My daughter Isis," continued Klaw, "has taken
161
162
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
advantage of the alterations and decorations to run
over so far as Paris."
I made some commonplace remark, and we drifted
into a conversation upon a daring robbery which at
that time was flooding the press with copy. We were
so engaged when, to my great surprise (for I had
thought him at least a thousand miles away), Shan
Haufmann was announced. As my old American
friend entered, Moris Klaw modestly arose to de-
part. But I detained him and made the two ac-
quainted.
Haufmann hailed Klaw cordially, exhibiting none
of the ill-bred surprise which so often greeted my
eccentric acquaintance of singular aspect. Hauf-
mann had all that bonhomie which overlooks the
clothes and welcomes the man. He glanced apolo-
getically at his right hand which hung in a sling.
"Can't shake, Mr. Klaw," said the big American,
a good-humoured smile on his tanned, clean-shaven
face. "I stopped some lead awhile back and my
right is still off duty."
Naturally I was anxious at once to know how he
had come by the hurt; and he briefly explained that
in the discharge of certain official duties he had run
foul of a bad gang, two of whom he had been instru-
mental in convicting of murder, whilst the third had
shot him in the arm and escaped.
"Three dagoes," he explained, in his crisply
picturesque fashion, "been wanted for years.
THE WHISPERING POPLARS
163
Helped themselves to a bunch of my colts this fall;
killed one of the boys and left another for dead.
So
I went after them hot and strong. We rounded
them up on the Mexican border and got two-
Schwart Sam and one of the Costas; but the younger
Costa-we call him Corpus Chris-broke away and
found me in the elbow with a lump of lead!"
"So you've come for a holiday?"
"Mostly," replied Haufmann. "Greta hustled
me here. She got real ill when I said I wouldn't
come. So we came! I'm centring in London for
six months. Brought the girls over for a look round.
I'm not stopping at a hotel. We've rented a house
a bit outside; it's Lal's idea. Settled yesterday. All
fixed. Expect you to dinner to-night! You, too,
Mr. Klaw! Is it a bet?"
Moris Klaw was commencing some sort of a reply,
but what it was never transpired, for Haufmann,
waving his sound hand cheerily, quitted the office as
rapidly as he had entered, calling back:
"Dine seven-thirty. Girls expecting you!"
That was his way; but so infectious was his real
geniality that few could fail to respond to it.
"He is a good fellow, that Mr. Haufmann,"
rumbled Moris Klaw. "Yes, I love such natures.
But he has forgotten to tell us where he lives!"
It was so! Haufmann in his hurry and impetu-
osity had overlooked that important matter; but I
thought it probable that he would recall the oversight
164
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
and communicate, so prevailed upon Klaw to remain.
At last, however, I glanced at my watch, and found it
to be nearly six o'clock, whereupon I looked blankly
at Moris Klaw. That eccentric shrugged his shoul-
ders and took up the caped coat. Then the 'phone
bell rang. It was Haufmann.
I was glad to hear his familiar accent as he laugh-
ingly apologized for his oversight. Rapidly he ac-
quainted me with the whereabouts of The Grove-
for so the house was called.
"Come now," he said. "Don't stop to dress;
you've only just got time," and rang off.
I thought Moris Klaw stared oddly through his
pince-nez when I told him the address, but concluded,
as he made no comment, that I had been mistaken.
There was just time to catch our train, and from the
station where we alighted it was only a short drive
to the house. Haufmann's car was waiting for us,
and in less than three quarters of an hour from our
quitting the Strand, we were driving up to The
Grove, through the most magnificent avenue of
poplars I had ever seen.
"By Jove!" I cried, "what fine trees!"
Moris Klaw nodded and looked around at the
towering trunks with a peculiar expression, which I
was wholly at a loss to account for. However, ere
I had leisure to think much about the matter, we
found ourselves in the hall, where Haufmann and his
two fascinating daughters were waiting to greet us.
THE WHISPERING POPLARS
165
I do not know which of the girls looked the more
charming: Lilian with her bright mass of curls and
blue eyes dancing with vivacity, or Greta in her
dark and rather mystic beauty. At any rate, they
were dangerous acquaintances for a susceptible man.
Even old Moris Klaw showed unmistakably that his
mind was not so wholly filled with obscure sciences
as to be incapable of appreciating the society of a
pretty woman.
Greta I noticed looking thoughtfully at him, and
during dinner she suddenly asked him if he had read
a book called "Psychic Angles."
Rather unwillingly, as it seemed to me, Klaw ad-
mitted that he had, and the girl displayed an im-
mediate and marked interest in psychical matters.
Klaw, however, though usually but too willing to
discuss this, his pet subject, foiled her attempt to
draw him into a technical discussion and rather
obviously steered the conversation into a more
general channel.
"Don't let her get away on the bogey tack, Mr.
Klaw," said Haufmann, approvingly. "She's a per-
fect demon for haunted chambers and so on.'
""
Laughingly the girl pleaded guilty to an interest
in ghostly subjects. "But I'm not frightened about
them!" she added, in pretended indignation.
should just love to see a ghost.'
"I
"Oh, Greta!" cried her sister. "What a horrid
idea."
166
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
"You have perhaps investigated cases yourself,
Mr. Klaw?" asked Greta.
"Yes," rumbled Klaw, "perhaps so. Who
knows?"
Since he thus clearly showed his wish to drop the
subject, the girl made a little humorously wry face,
whereat her father laughed boisterously; and no more
was said during the evening about ghosts. I could
not well avoid noticing two things, however, in
regard to Moris Klaw: one, his evident interest in
Greta; and the other, a certain preoccupation which
claimed him every now and again.
We left at about ten o'clock, declining the offer
of the car, as we had ample time to walk to the
station. Haufmann wanted to come along, but we
dissuaded him, with the assurance that we could find
the way without any difficulty. Klaw, especially,
was very insistent on the point, and when at last we
swung sharply down the avenue and, rounding the
bend, lost sight of the house, he pulled up and
said:
"For this opportunity, Mr. Searles, I have been
waiting. It may not, of course, matter, but this
house where the good Haufmann resides was for-
merly known as The Park."
"What of that?" I asked, turning on him sharply.
"It is," he replied, "celebrated as what foolish
people call a haunted house. No doubt that is the
reason why the name has been changed. As The
THE WHISPERING POPLARS
167
Park it has been dealt with many times in the
psychical journals.”
"The Park," I mused. "Is it not included in
that extraordinary work on the occult-'Psychic
Angles'-of which Miss Haufmann spoke to-night-
the place where the monk was supposed to have been
murdered, where an old antiquary died, and some
young girl, too, if I remember rightly?"
"Yes," replied Moris Klaw, "yes. I will tell you
a secret. 'Psychic Angles' is a little book of my own,
and so, of course, I know about this place."
His words surprised me greatly, for the book was
being generally talked about. He peered around
him into the shadows and seemed to sniff the air
suspiciously.
"Setting aside the question of any supernatural
menace," I said, "directly the servants find out, as
they are sure to do from others in the neighbourhood,
they will leave en bloc. It is a pleasant way servants
have in such cases.'
99
"We must certainly tell him, the good Haufmann,"
agreed Klaw, “and he will perhaps arrange to quit
the place without letting the ladies to know of its
reputation. That Miss Greta she has the sympa-
thetic mind"—he tapped his forehead—“the plate so
sensitive, the photo film so delicate! For her it
is dangerous to remain. There is such a thing,
Mr. Searles, as sympathetic suicide! That girl she is
mediumistic. From The Park she must be removed."
168
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
"There is no time to lose," I said. "We must
decide what to do to-night. Suppose you come along
to my place?"
Moris Klaw agreed, and we resumed our walk
through the poplar grove.
Although the night was very still, an eerie whis-
pering went on without pause or cessation along
the whole length of the avenue. Against the star-
spangled sky the tall trees reared their shapes in a
manner curiously suggestive of dead things. Or
this fancy may have had birth in the associations.
of the place. It was a
It was a fatally easy matter mentally
to fashion one of the poplars into the gaunt form of a
monk; and no one, however unimaginative, being
acquainted with the history of The Grove, could fail
to find, in the soft and ceaseless voices of the trees,
something akin to a woman's broken sighs. In short,
I was not sorry when the gate was passed, and we
came out upon the high road.
Later, seated in my study, we discussed the busi-
ness thoroughly. From my bookcase I took down
"Psychic Angles" and passed it to Moris Klaw.
"There we are," he rumbled, turning over the
leaves. I read: "On August 8, 1858, a Fra Giulimo,
of a peculiar religious brotherhood who occupied this
house from 1851 to 1858, was found strangled at the
foot of a poplar close by the entrance gate." "I
could never find out much about them, this brother-
hood," he added, looking up; "but they were, I
THE WHISPERING POPLARS
169
believe, decent people. They left the place almost
immediately after the crime. No arrest was ever
made. Then"-referring to the book-"about the
lend of February or early in the March of 1863, a
Mr. B- J- took the house. He was an anti-
quarian of European repute and a man of retired
habits. With only two servants-an old soldier and
his wife he occupied The Park'-that is The
Grove-'from the spring of '63 to the autumn of
'65.' Then follow verbatim reports by the well-
known Pepley of interviews with people who had
heard Mr. J declare that a hushed voice some-
tines called upon him by name in the night, from the
poplar grove. Also, an interview with his man-
servant and with wife of latter, corroborating other
statements. Mr. B- Jwas found one Sep-
tember morning dead in the grove. Cause of death
never properly established. The house next enters
upon a period of neglect. It is empty; it is shunned.
From '65 right up to '88 it stood so empty. It was
then taken by a Mr. K- -; but he only occupied it
for two months, this K. Three other tenants
subsequently rented the place. Only one of them
actually occupied it--for a week; the other, hearing,
we presume, of its evil repute, never entered into
residence. Seventeen years ago the last tragedy
connected with the unpleasant Grove took place.
An eccentric old bachelor took the house, and, in the
summer of '03, had a niece there to stay with him.
170
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
The evidence clearly indicates to me that this un-
happy one was highly neurotic-oh, clearly; so that
From
the tragedy explains itself. She fell, or sprang, from
her bedroom window to the drive one night in June, and
was picked up quite dead at the foot of the first poplar
in the grove. Sacré! it is a morgue, that house!"
He returned the book and sat watching me in
silence for some moments.
"Did you spend any time in the house, yourself?"
I asked.
"On four different occasions, Mr. Searles! It is
only from certain of the rooms that the whispering
is audible, and then only if the windows are open.
You will notice, though, that all the tragedies oc-
curred in the warm months when the windows would
be so open.
""
"Did you note anything supernormal in this
whispering?"
"Nothing. You have read my explanation."
II
Haufmann looked rather blank when we told him.
"Just my luck!" he commented. "Greta's read
your book, Mr. Klaw, and if she hasn't fixed it yet
she's sure to come to it that The Park and The Grove
are one and the same. It was largely because of her
I arranged this trip," he added. "The trouble I've
told you about got on her nerves and she had the idea
some guy was tracking her around. The medicos
THE WHISPERING POPLARS 171
said it was a common enough symptom and ordered a
change. Anyhow, I quitted, to give her a chance to
tone up. Confound this business!"
He ultimately left quite determined to change his
place of residence. But so averse was his practical
mind from the idea of inconveniencing oneself on such
ghostly grounds, that two weeks slipped by, and still
the Haufmanns occupied The Grove. The decora-
tion of Moris Klaw's establishment being presumably
still in progress, Klaw accompanied me on more than
one other occasion to visit Shan Haufmann and the
girls. At last, one afternoon, Greta asked him point-
blank if he thought the house to be that dealt with in
"Psychic Angles."
Of course, he had to admit that it was so; but far
from exhibiting any signs of alarm, the girl appeared
to be delighted.
"How dense I have been!" she cried. "I should
have known it from the description! As a matter of
fact, I might never have found out, but this morning
the servants resigned unanimously!"
Klaw looked at me significantly. All was befalling
as we had foreseen.
"They told you, then!" he said. "Yes? No?"
"They said the house was haunted," she replied,
"but they didn't seem to know much more about it.
That simple fact was enough for them!"
Haufmann came in and in answer to our queries
declared himself helpless.
172
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
"Lal and Greta won't quit," he declared; "so
what's to do? I've cabled for servants from home.
Meanwhile, we're at the mercy of day girls and char-
women!"
The concern evinced by Moris Klaw was very
great. He seized an early opportunity of taking
Haufmann aside and questioning him relative to the
situation of the rooms occupied by the family.
"My room overlooks the avenue," replied Hauf-
mann, "and so does Greta's. Lal's is on the opposite
side. Come up and see them!"
Klaw and I accompanied him. It was a beautiful
clear day, and from his window we gazed along the
majestic ranks of poplars, motionless as a giant guard,
in the still summer air. It was difficult to conjure
up a glamour of the uncanny, with the bright sunlight
pouring gladness upon trees, flowers, shrubs, and
lawn.
"This is the room from which the whisper is the
most clearly audible!" said Moris Klaw. "I could
tell you-ah! I spent several nights here!"
"The devil you did," rapped Haufmann. “I
must sleep pretty soundly. I've never heard a thing.
Greta's room is next on the right. She has said
nothing."
Klaw looked troubled.
"There is no sound unusual to hear," he answered.
"I quite convinced myself of that. But it is the
tradition that speaks, Mr. Haufmann! In those
THE WHISPERING POPLARS
173
f
silent watches, even so insensible an old fool as I can
imagine almost anything, aided by such gruesome
memories. Excepting the monk, who probably fell
foul of a prowler thief, the tragedies are easily to be
explained. The old antiquarian died of syncope, and
the poor girl, in all probability, fell from the balcony
in her sleep. She had a tremendously neurotic
temperament.'
""
"It's bad, now Greta knows," mused Haufmann.
"Her nerves are all unstrung. It's just the thing I
wanted to avoid!"
"Can't you
induce her at any rate to change her
room?" I suggested.
"No! She's as obstinate as a pony! Her poor
mother was the same. It's the Irish blood!"
Such was the situation when we left. No develop-
ment took place for a couple of days or so, then that
befell which we had feared and half expected.
Haufmann walked into my office with:
"It's started! Greta says she hears it every
night!"
Prepared though I had been for the news, his
harshly spoken words sent a cold shudder through
me.
"Haufmann!" I said, sternly. "There must be
no more of this. Get the girls away at once. On
top of her previous nerve trouble this morbid imagin-
ing may affect her mind."
"You haven't heard me out," he went on, more
174
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
slowly than was his wont.
"You talk of morbid
imagining. What about this: I've heard it!"
I stared at him blankly.
"That's one on you!" he said, with a certain grim
triumph. "After Greta said there was something
came in the night that wasn't trees rustling, I sat up
and smoked. First night I read and nothing hap-
pened. Next night I sat in the dark. There was no
breeze and I heard nothing for my pains. Third
night I stayed in the dark again, and about twelve
o'clock a breeze came along. All mixed up with the
rustling and sighing of the leaves I heard a voice
calling as plain as I ever heard anything in my life!
And it called me!",
"Haufmann!"
"It blame-well called me! I'd take my oath be-
fore a jury on it!"
"This is almost incredible!" I said. "I wish
Moris Klaw were here."
"Where is he?"
"He is in Paris. He will be away over the week-
end."
"I met
a man curiously enough," continued
Haufmann, “just outside the Charing Cross Tube,
on my way here, who's coming down to have a look
into the business-a hot man on mysteries." He
mentioned the name of a celebrated American detec-
tive agency. "I'm afraid it's right outside his radius,
THE WHISPERING POPLARS
175
""
but he volunteered and I was glad to have him. I'd
like Klaw down though.'
"What about the girls?"
"I was going to tell you. They're at Brighton for
a while. Greta didn't want to quit, but poor Lal was
dead scared! Anyway, I got them off."
The uncanny business claimed entire possession of
my mind, and further work was out of the question.
I accordingly accompanied Haufmann to the hotel
where the detective was lodged and made the ac-
quaintance of Mr. J. Shorter Ottley. He was a
typical New Yorker, clean-shaven and sallow com-
plexioned with good gray eyes and an inflexible
mouth.
"We don't deal in ghosts!" he said, smilingly;
"I never met a ghost that couldn't stop a bullet if
it came his way!"
"I'll make a confession to you," remarked Hauf-
mann. "When I heard that soft voice calling, I
hadn't the sand to go and look out! How's that for
funk?"
"Not funk at all," replied Ottley, quietly. "Maybe
it was wisdom!"
"How do you mean?"
"I've got an idea about it, that's all. Did Miss
Haufmann hear it the same night?"
"Not the same night I did-no. She seems to
have dozed off."
176
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
"When she did hear it, was it calling you?"
"She couldn't make out what it called!"
"Did she go to the window?"
"Yes, but she only looked out from behind the
blind."
"See anything?"
"No."
"I should have very much liked an interview with
her," said Ottley, thoughtfully.
"She could tell you no more than I have."
"About that, no! There's something else I would
like to ask her."
That evening we all three dined at The Grove,
dinner being prepared by a woman who departed
directly we were finished. A desultory game of
billiards served to pass the time between twilight and
darkness, and the detective and I departed, leaving
Haufmann alone in the house. This was prearranged
by Ottley, who had some scheme in hand. Side by
side we tramped down the poplar avenue, went out
by the big gate, and closed it behind us. We then
skirted the grounds to a point on the side opposite
the gate, and, scaling the wall, found ourselves in a
wilderness of neglected kitchen garden. Through this
the American cautiously led the way toward the
house, visible through the tangle of bushes and trees
in sharp silhouette against the sky. On all fours we
crossed a little yard and entered a side door which
had been left ajar for the purpose, closing it softly
THE WHISPERING POPLARS
177
behind us. So, passing through the kitchen, we
made our way upstairs and rejoined Haufmann.
A post had been allotted to me in the room next to
his and I was enjoined to sit in the dark and watch
for anything moving among the trees. Haufmann
departed to a room on the west front with similar
injunctions, and the detective remained in Hauf-
mann's room.
As I crept cautiously to the window, avoiding the
broad moonbeam streaming in, I saw a light on my
left. Ottley was acting as Haufmann would have
done if he had been retiring for the night. Three
minutes later the light vanished, and the nervous
vigil was begun.
There was very little breeze, but sufficient to send
up and down the poplar ranks waves of that mys-
terious whispering which Klaw and I had previously
noted. The moon, though invisible from that point,
swam in an absolutely cloudless sky, and the shadow
of the house lay black beneath me, its edge tropically
sharp. A broad belt of moon-bright grass and gravel
succeeded, and this merged into the light-patched
gloom of the avenue. On the right of the poplars
lay a shrubbery, and beyond that a garden stretching
to the east wall. Just to the left, an outbuilding
gleamed whitely. Some former occupant had built it
for a coach house and it now housed Haufmann's car.
The apartments above were at present untenanted.
I cannot say with certainty when I first detected,
178
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
mingled with the whistling of the branches, something
that was not caused by the wind. But ultimately I
found myself listening for this other sound. With my
eyes fixed straight ahead and peering into the
shadows of the poplars 1 crouched, every nerve at
high tension. A slight sound on my left told of a
window softly opened. It was Ottley creeping out
on to the balcony. He, too, had heard it!
Then, with awful suddenness, the inexplicable
happened.
A short, shrill cry broke the complete silence,
succeeding one of those spells of whispering. A shot
followed hot upon it-then a second. Somebody fell
with a muffled thud upon the drive-and I leapt to
the window, threw it widely open, and stepped out
on the balcony.
"Ottley!" I cried. "Haufmann!"
A door banged somewhere and I heard Haufmann's
muffled voice:
"Downstairs! Come down!"
I ran across the room, out on to the landing, and
down into the hall. Haufmann was unfastening the
bolts. His injured arm was still stiff, and I hastened
to assist him.
"My God!" he cried, turning a pale face toward
me. "It's Ottley gone! Did you see anything?"
"No! Did you?"
"Curse it! No! I had just slipped away from the
window to get my repeater! You heard the voice?"
THE WHISPERING POPLARS
179
"Clearly!"
The door was thrown open and we ran out into the
drive.
There was no sign of Ottley, and we stood for a
moment, undecided how we should act. Then, just
inside the shadow belt we found the detective lying.
Thinking him dead, we raised and dragged him
back to the house. Having re-fastened the door, we
laid him on a sofa in the morning room. His face was
deathly and blood flowed from a terrible wound on
his skull. Strangest of all, though, he had a gaping
hole just above the right wrist. The skin about it
was discoloured as if with burning. Neither of us
could detect any sign of life, and we stood, two
frankly frightened men, looking at each other over
the body.
"It's got to be done!" said Haufmann, slowly.
"One of us has to stay here and do what he can for
him, and one has to go for a doctor! There's no
telephone!"
"Where's the nearest doctor?" I asked.
"There's one at the corner of the first road on the
right."
"I'll go!" I said.
Without shame I confess that from the moment
the door closed behind me, I ran my hardest down the
poplar avenue until I had passed the gate! And it
was not anxiety that spurred me, for I did not doubt
that Ottley was dead, but stark fear!
}
180
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
III
Moris Klaw deposited a large grip and a travelling
rug upon the veranda.
"Good day, Mr. Haufmann! Good day, Mr.
Searles!" At an open window the white-aproned
figure of a nurse appeared. "Good day, Nurse! I
am direct from Paris. This is a case which cannot
be dealt with under the head of the Cycle of Crime,
and I do not think it has any relation with the history
of The Park. But thoughts are things, Mr. Hauf-
mann. How helpful that is!"
Forty-eight hours had elapsed since Haufmann and
I had picked up Ottley for dead in the poplar avenue.
Now he lay in a bed made up in the billiard room
hovering between this world and another. I had a
shrewd suspicion that the doctor who attended him
was mystified by some of the patient's symptoms.
Haufmann stared oddly at Moris Klaw, not alto-
gether comprehending the drift of his words.
"If only Ottley could tell us!" he muttered.
"He will tell us nothing for many a day," I said;
"if, indeed, he ever speaks again.'
99
"Ah," interrupted Moris Klaw, "to me he will
speak! How? With the mind! Something-we
have yet to learn what-struck him down that night.
The blow, if it was a blow, made so acute an impres-
sion upon his brain that no other has secured admit-
tance yet! Good! That blow, it still resides within
THE WHISPERING POPLARS
181
his mind. To-night I shall sleep beside his bed. I
shall be unable odically to sterilize myself, but we
must hope. From amid the phantasms which that
sick brain will throw out upon the astral film-upon
the surrounding ether-I must trust that I find the
thought, the last thought before delirium came!"
Haufmann looked amazed. I had prepared him,
to some extent, for Klaw's theories, but, nevertheless,
he was tremendously surprised. Klaw, however,
paid no attention to this. He looked around at the
trees.
"I am glad," he rumbled, impressively, "that you
managed to hush up. Distinctly, we have now a
chance."
"A chance of what?" I cried. "The thing seems
susceptible of no ordinary explanation! How can
you account for what happened to Ottley and for his
condition? What incredible thing came out from the
poplars?"
"No thing!" answered Moris Klaw. "No thing,
my good friend!”
"Then what did he fire at?"
"At the coach house!"
I met the gaze of his peculiar eyes, fixed upon me
through the pince-nez.
"If you will look at the coach-house chimney,"
he continued, "you will see it-the hole made by his
bullet!"
I turned quickly, and even from that considerable
182
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
distance the hole was visible; a triangular break on
the red-tiled rim.
"What on earth does it mean?" I asked, more
hopelessly mystified than ever.
"It means that Ottley is a clever man who knows
his business; and it means, Mr. Searles, that we must
take up this so extraordinary affair where the poor
Ottley dropped it!"
"What do you propose?"
"I propose that you invite yourself to a few days'
holiday, as I have done. You stay here. Do not
allow even the doctor to know that you are in the'
house. The nurse you will have to confide in, I
suppose. Mr. Haufmann"-he turned to the latter
66
'you will occupy your old room. Do not, I beg of
you, go outside after dusk upon any consideration.
If either of you shall hear it again—the evil whisper-
ing-come out by the front door, and keep in the
shadow. Carry no light. Above all, do not come
out upon the balcony!"
"Then you," I said, "will be unable to stay?"
"I shall be so unable," was the reply; "for I go
to Brighton to secure the interview with Miss Greta
which the poor Ottley so much required!"
"You don't suggest that she knows-
"She knows no more than we do, Mr. Searles!
But I think she holds a clue and does not know that
she holds a clue! For an hour I shall slumber-I
who, like the tortoise, know that to sleep is to live-
THE WHISPERING POPLARS
183
I shall slumber beside the sick man's bed. Then, we
shall see!"
IV
It was a quarter to seven when Moris Klaw entered
the sick room. Ottley lay in a trance-like condition,
and the eccentric investigator, of whose proceedings
the nurse strongly disapproved, settled himself in a
split-cane armchair by the bedside, and waving his
hand in dismissal to Haufmann and myself, placed
a large silk handkerchief over his sparsely covered
skull and composed himself for slumber.
We left him and tiptoed from the room.
"If you hadn't told me what he's done in the
past," whispered Haufmann, "I should say our old
friend was mad a lot!"
The great empty house was eerily silent, and during
the time that we sat smoking and awaiting the end
of Moris Klaw's singular telepathic experiment,
neither of us talked very much. At eight o'clock the
man whose proceedings savoured so much of char-
latanism, but whom I knew for one of the fore-
most criminologists of the world, emerged, spraying
his face with verbena.
"Ah, gentlemen," he said, coming in to us, "I
have recovered some slight impression"-he tapped
his moist forehead-"of that agonizing thought
which preceded the unconsciousness of Ottley. I de-
part. Sometime to-night will come Sir Bartram Vane
184
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
from Half-Moon Street, the specialist, to confer with
the physician who is attending here. Mr. Searles,
remain concealed. Not even he must know of your
being here; no one outside the house must know.
Remember my warnings. I depart."
Behind the thick pebbles his eyes gleamed with
some excitement repressed. By singular means, he
would seem to have come upon a clue.
"Good-night, Mr. Haufmann," he said. "Good-
night, Mr. Searles. To the nurse I have said good-
night and she only glared. She thinks I am the mad
old fool!"
He departed, curtly declining company, and
carrying his huge plaid rug and heavy grip. As his
slouching footsteps died away along the avenue,
Haufmann and I looked grimly at each other.
"Seems we're left!" said my friend. "You won't
desert me, Searles?"
"Most certainly I shall not! You are tied here
by the presence of poor Ottley, in any event, and you
can rely upon me to keep you company.'
At about ten o'clock Sir Bartram Vane drove up,
bringing with him the local physician who was at-
tending upon Ottley. I kept well out of sight, but
learnt, when the medical men had left, that the
course of treatment had been entirely changed.
Thus commenced our strange ordeal; how it
terminated you presently shall learn.
Moris Klaw, in pursuit of whatever plan he had
THE WHISPERING POPLARS
185
formed, never appeared on the scene, but evidence
of his active interest reached us in the form of tele-
graphic instructions. Once it was a wire telling
Haufmann to detain the American servants in
London should they arrive and to go on living as
we were. Again it was a warning not to go out on
the balcony after dusk; and, again, that we should
not desert our posts for one single evening. On the
fourth day the doctor pronounced a slight improve-
ment in Ottley's condition, and Haufmann deter-
mined to run down to Brighton on the following
morning, returning in the afternoon.
That night we again heard the voice.
The house was very still, and Haufmann and I had
retired to our rooms, when I discerned, above the
subdued rustling whisper of the leaves, that other
sound that no leaf ever made. In an instant I was
crouching by the open window. A lull followed.
Then, again, I heard the soft voice calling. I could
not detect the words, but in obedience to the instruc-
tions of Klaw, I picked up the pistol which I had
brought for the purpose, and ran to the door. The
idea that the whispering menace was something that
could be successfully shot at robbed it of much of
its eerie horror, and I relished the prospect of action
after the dreary secret sojourn in the upper rooms
of the house.
I groped my way down to the hall. As we had
carefully oiled the bolts, I experienced no difficulty
186
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
in silently opening the door. Inch by inch I opened
it, listening intently.
Again I heard the queer call.
Now, by craning my neck, I could see the moon-
bright front of the house; and looking upward, I
was horrified to see Shan Haufmann, a conspicuous
figure in his light pajama suit, crouching on the
balcony! The moonlight played vividly on the
nickelled barrel of the pistol he carred as he rose
slowly to his feet.
Though I did not know what danger threatened,
nor from whence it would proceed, I knew well that
Klaw's was no idle warning. I could not imagine,
what madness had prompted Haufmann to neglect
it, and was about to throw wide the door and call
to him, when a series of strange things happened in
bewildering succession.
An odd strumming sound came from somewhere
in the outer darkness. Haufmann dropped to his
knees (I learnt, afterward, that the loose slippers
he wore had tripped him). The glass of the window
behind him was shattered with a great deal of noise.
A shot!
a spurt of flame in the black
darkness of the poplar avenue!
from somewhere on the west front
ran out on to the drive.
·
•
•
a shriek
and I
·
With a tremendous crash a bulky form rolled down
the sloping roof of the coach house, to fall with a
sickening thud to the ground!
THE WHISPERING POPLARS
187
Then, out into the moonlight, Moris Klaw came
running, his yet smoking pistol in his hand!
"Haufmann!" he cried, and again, "Haufmann!"
The big American peered down from the balcony,
hauling in something which seemed to be a line, but
which I was unable to distinguish in the darkness.
"Good boy!" he panted. "I was a fool to do it!
But I saw him lying behind the chimney and thought
I could drop him!"
Moris Klaw ran, ungainly, across to the coach
house and I followed him. The figure of a tall, lithe
man, wearing a blue serge suit, lay face downward on
the gravel. As we turned him over, Haufmann,
breathing heavily, joined us. The moonlight fell on
a dark saturnine face.
"Gee!" came the cry. "It's Corpus Chris!"
V
"Where did I get hold upon the clue?" asked
Moris Klaw, when he, Haufmann, and I sat, in the
gray dawn, waiting for the police to come and take
away the body of Costa. "It was from the brain of
Ottley! His poor mind"-he waved long hands
circularly in the air-"goes round and round about
the thing that happened to him on the balcony."
66
"And what was that?" demanded Haufmann,
eagerly. "Same as happened to me?"
"It was something-something that his knowledge
of strange things tells him is venomous-which struck
188
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
his wrist as he raised his revolver! What did he do?
I can tell you; because he is doing it over and over
again in his poor feverish mind. He clapped to the
injured wrist the barrel of his revolver and fired!
Then, swooning, he toppled over and fell among the
bushes. The wound that so had puzzled all becomes
explained. It was self-inflicted-a precaution-a
cauterizing; and it saved his life. For I saw Sir
Bartram Vane to-day and he had spoken with the
other doctor on the telephone. The new treatment
succeeds."
"I am still in the dark!" confessed Haufmann.
"Yes?" rumbled Moris Klaw. "So? Why do I
go to Brighton? I go to ask Miss Greta what Ottley
would have asked her."
"And that is?"
"What she feared that made her so very anxious
to get you away from your home. To me she ad-
mitted that she had received from the man Costa
impassioned appeals, such as, foolish girl, she had
been afraid to show to you-her father!"
"Good heavens! the scamp!"
"The canaille! But no matter, he is dead canaille!
After you got the brother hanged, this Corpus Chris
(it was Fate that named him!) sent to your daughter
a mad letter, swearing that if she does not fly with
him, he will kill you if he has to follow you around
the world! Yes, he was insane, I fancy; I think so.
THE WHISPERING POPLARS
189
But he was a man of very great culture. He held a
Cambridge degree! You did not know? I thought
not. He tracked you to Europe and right to this
house. Its history he learned in some way and used
for his own ends. Probably, too, he had no oppor-
tunity of getting at you otherwise, without leaving
behind a clue or being seen and pursued."
Moris Klaw picked up an Indian bow which lay
upon the floor beside him.
"A bow of the Sioux pattern," he rumbled, im-
pressively.
He stooped again, picking up a small arrow to
which a length of thin black twine was attached.
99
"One standing on the balcony in the moonlight,'
he continued, "what a certain mark if the wind be
not too high! And you will remember that on gently
blowing nights the whispering came!"
He raised the point of the arrow. It was encrusted
in some black, shining substance. Moris Klaw
lowered his voice.
"Curari!" he said, horasely, "the ancient arrow
poison of the South American tribes! This small
arrow would make only a tiny wound, and it could
be drawn back again by means of the twine attached.
Costa, of course, mistook Ottley for you, Mr. Hauf-
mann. Ah, a clever fellow! I spent three evenings
up the second tree in the avenue waiting for him.
I need not have shot him if you had followed my
190
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
instructions and not come out on the balcony. We
could have captured him alive!"
"I'm not crying about it!" said Haufmann.
"Neither do I weep," rumbled Moris Klaw, and
bathed his face with perfume. "But I loathe it,
this curari-it smells of death. Ah! the canaille!"
SEVENTH EPISODE
CASE OF THE CHORD IN G
I
T HAS been suggested to me more than once
I
that the extraordinary crime which became
known throughout the press as the Chelsea
studio murder was the Waterloo of my eccentric
friend, Moris Klaw; to which I reply that, on the
contrary, it was his Austerlitz. This prince of crim-
inologists, some of whose triumphs it has been my
privilege to chronicle, never more dramatically
established his theory of what he termed "Odic'
negatives" than in his solution of the mystery of the
death of Pyke Webley, the portrait painter.
His singular power, which I can only term post-
telepathy, of recovering thought-forms from the
atmosphere, earned him the derision of the ignorant,
as I have shown, but the grateful appreciation of the
better informed-not least among these, Detective-
Inspector Grimsby, of New Scotland Yard.
I cannot doubt that the recent experiments of
Professor Gilbert Murray were based upon that law
of "psychic angles" laid down by the strange genius
of Wapping Old Stairs.
191
192
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
During lunch, I had been reading an account of the
Chelsea tragedy in an early edition of the Evening
Standard, and on returning to my chambers I found
Inspector Grimsby waiting for me. A preamble was
unnecessary. Simple deduction told me why he
had come.
He was in charge of the Chelsea mystery-and out
of his depth.
By several years the youngest detective inspector
in the Service, Grimsby is a man earmarked by
nature for constant promotion. He possesses a gift
more precious than genius-the art of using genius;
allied to which he has that knack indispensable to
any man who would succeed-the knack of finding
the limelight. Although he may have done no more
than stand in the wings throughout the performance,
Detective-Inspector Grimsby invariably takes the
last curtain.
This is as it should be, and I accord him my re-
spectful admiration. Therefore, on seeing him:
"The murder of Pyke Webley?" I said, interroga-
tively.
"Well, that's wonderful!" he declared, trying
to look surprised. "I shall begin to think you are
Moris Klaw's only rival if you spring things like
this on me."
""
"I see," said I, tossing my paper on the table.
"The case is not so simple as it appears.'
"Simple!" cried Grimsby. He threw the stump
CASE OF THE CHORD IN G
193
of a vicious-looking cheroot into my hearth. "Simple?
It's too simple. By which I mean that there is noth-
ing to work upon-nothing I can see."
He stood, his back to the hearth, looking at me
appealingly; and:
"Have you 'phoned to Wapping?" I asked.
Grimsby nodded.
"I could get no reply," he answered gloomily.
"Then what do you suggest?"
"Well"-he hesitated-"I know your time is of
value, Mr. Searles, but I was wondering-I have a
taxi outside—if you had time to run down to Moris
Klaw's place with me for a chat?"
"Why not go alone?"
"Ah!"
He selected a fresh cheroot and made
it crackle between finger and thumb. "His daughter
is the snag. She thinks I waste his time. I doubt
if she'd let me see him."
"Your own fault," I said. "She's a charming girl.
You don't handle her properly."
"Ah!" he repeated, and became silent, fumbling
for matches. Finally, taking pity upon him:
"Very well," I agreed, "I have a couple of hours
to spare, and if Klaw takes up the case my time
will not be wasted."
II
"You see," said Grimsby, plaintively, as the cab
threaded dingy highways, "there is absolutely no
194
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
motive. Pyke Webley seems to have been a decent,
clean-living man, with absolutely no vices as far as
I can gather. Of course, I have tried to find a woman
in the case, but the only women I've found are heart-
broken about his death. A most popular chap.
Revenge is out of the question; robbery is out of the
question; and I'd take my oath that jealousy is out
of the question. So what am I to make of it?"
"He was strangled?"
"Yes." Grimsby nodded. "By a very powerful
man. His face is horrible to see, and there are blue
weals on his neck where the strangler's fingers bit
into the flesh."
"Who saw him last, alive?"
"The door-keeper of the Ham Bone Club," came
the answer, promptly. "He dined there, stayed an
hour talking to friends and then went out, saying that
he had work to do at his studio. The studio is
separated from the house by a small garden and can
be entered direct from a side entrance. There are
only two servants he was a bachelor-a cook
general and a man who has been with him for years.
Neither of them heard him come into the house, so
that we presume he went straight into the studio.
Early this morning a charwoman, who comes daily,
finding the studio door locked (I mean the one that
opens on the garden) reported this to Parker (that's
the man's name) and he came down with the key."
"But," I interrupted, "Parker must surely have
CASE OF THE CHORD IN G
195
known before this that his master was not in the
house?"
"No!" Grimsby shook his head emphatically.
"Mr. Webley often worked late and Parker had or-
ders never to disturb him until his bell rang."
"I see," said I. "So they unlocked the studio-
"Yes," Grimsby went on, "and found him there
lying strangled on the floor."
"How long had he been dead?"
39
"Well, the police surgeon says several hours.
Everything points to the fact that it happened
shortly after he entered the place."
"Someone may have been concealed there," I
suggested.
"God knows!" Grimsby muttered. "I can't find
a thing to work upon. And in a case like this the
first twelve hours are important. But here we are,'
he added, nervously.
99
At the head of that blind alley which shelters
the all-but-indescribable establishment of Moris
Klaw, we directed the taxi man to wait. This was
a foggy afternoon and only dimly could we discern
the lights in front of the shop. A chill in the atmos-
phere told of the nearness of old Father Thames,
and as we approached that stacked-up lumber
which represented the visible stock-in-trade of the
proprietor, a singular piece of human flotsam was
revealed propped against the door-post, a fragment
of cigarette adhering to the corner of his mouth and
196
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
threatening at any moment to ignite the stained and
walrus-like moustache which distinguished William,
Moris Klaw's salesman.
“Good afternoon," I said; "will you tell Mr. Moris
Klaw that I have called?"
"Certainly, sir," wheezed the inebriate. "Great
pleasure, sir, I'm sure, sir.”
William paused, turned, and looked back.
"Do you mind a-waitin' outside?" he added.
"There's a boy with red 'air 'angin' about somewhere
as 'as
'as got
'is eye on this 'ere golf club"-indicating
a dilapidated niblick. "If we all goes in 'e'll nip
orf with it."
Accordingly we lingered, and:
"Moris Klaw! Moris Klaw! The devil's come
for you!" screeched the parrot who mounted guard
within.
Presently came Klaw's unmistakable deep, rum-
bling voice from the interior gloom:
"Ah! Good afternoon, Mr. Searles! Is it De-
tective-Inspector Grimsby you have with you? Good
afternoon, Mr. Grimsby."
He advanced through the odorous shadows, a
strange, a striking figure and—
"Behold!" he said, "I have my hat and you have
your cab. It is to Chelsea you take me? Yes?"
From the lining of the flat-topped hat he took out
his cylindrical scent spray and played its contents
upon his high, bald crown.
CASE OF THE CHORD IN G 197
"Verbena," he rumbled. "My guinea-pigs, they
detest it, but I find it so refreshing." He replaced
the spray in the hat, the hat on his crown. "I have
recently bought a fine pair of armadillos," he ex-
plained, "and they have an odour peculiar which,
to me, is objectionable."
He regarded William, who was glancing suspi-
ciously up and down the narrow alley.
"William," he admonished, "cease to dwell upon
the youth with red hair. He becomes with you an
obsession. Give the sheldrake some fresh seaweed,
and if the hedgehogs continue to refuse apples, they
may have each a small piece of raw steak."
He approached the waiting taxi cab, and on the
step he paused.
"Mr. Searles, I shall buy no more hedgehogs.
They are not only delicate in captivity but one was in
my bed last night.'
We all entered the cab; and:
"Now, Mr. Grimsby," Moris Klaw continued,
"tell me all about this poor fellow who is murdered.
I am expecting you. I see it is not simple. I say,
"The old fool from Wapping is wanted here.""
III
"You are squeamish, Mr. Searles," said Moris
Klaw, wagging a long finger at me.
"You squeam.
You are not yet recovered from the blue face of the
murdered. Ah, well! it is horrible."
1
198
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
The body had been removed and we had been to
view it. Now we stood in the studio where the crime
had taken place, and although some time had
elapsed since we had left the mortuary, I confess
that I was not entirely myself. Dusk was come and
we had turned up the studio lights. A faint mist
hung in the place, for the fog had grown.denser.
I looked about me at half-completed pictures:
groups; studies for magazine jackets; portraits of
children and of women-and the ghastly face seemed
to rise up before me, the distorted face of the man
whose hand would never touch again the brushes of
his craft.
""
"It isn't the first time I've seen a strangling case,
said Grimsby, "but it's the first time I've seen marks
like that."
"Ah! really!" Moris Klaw rumbled, turning to
him. "Never before, eh, like that? You interest
me, my friend; you begin to notice. Your intellect
it expands like a sunflower in the sun.
that you see different in those marks?"
What is it
Grimsby stared hard, painfully uncertain whether
to regard the words as a compliment or a joke, but
finally:
"The pressure was greater," he replied. "The
murderer must have had amazing strength."
66
'Ah, yes!" Moris Klaw removed his hat and
stared reflectively into the crown thereof. "Amazing
strength? And the surgeon, what does he think?"
1
CASE OF THE CHORD IN G
199
"He thinks the same.'
99
"Ah! but no more, eh? Amazing strength only?"
Grimsby figuratively pricked up his ears.
"I don't quite follow you, Mr. Klaw," he said.
"Did you notice something else?"
Moris Klaw placed his hat upon a little table.
"I did take notice of some other thing, Mr.
Grimsby," he replied, "and for a moment I had
dreams that you synchronize with me. It is a
complimentary mistake which I make. Please for-
give me. This ashtray"-he took up an ashtray from
the table beside his hat—“is of great interest. You
are agreeable, Mr. Searles"-turning to me-"that
it is of great interest?"
I stared rather helplessly. It was a common
brass ashtray containing match sticks and cigarette
ends. I could see nothing unusual about it, and so
presently I shook my head.
"Ah!"
Moris Klaw inserted two long yellow fingers gin-
gerly and plucked out a cigarette stump. He re-
placed the tray and held up the stump.
"Behold!" he said, "what I find!"
Grimsby now was frankly amazed and not a little
angry. As for myself, familiar though I was with
Klaw's peculiar methods, I could not divine at what
he was driving.
"My friends," he continued, looking from one to
the other of us, and holding up the cigarette stump
200
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
as a lecturer holds up a specimen, "the cigarette,
a vice which has killed many men. I have known
a woman to hang because of a hairpin, but men
and women, too, many of them, because of a ciga-
rette."
He opened a bulging pocket-case and tenderly
deposited the stump inside. As he was about to
close the case:
"One moment, Mr. Klaw!" said Grimsby. "If
that is evidence-though I can't for the life of me
see how it can be
99
"But I see!" cried Moris Klaw-"I, the old
foolish from Wapping, behold in this the hangman's
rope!"
He closed the case.
"But-
Grimsby began again.
"But me no buts!" Moris Klaw implored. “In
my hands it is the evidence, in your hands it is the
cigarette stump. But listen!" A bell rang. "It
is Isis. I had arranged with her to meet me here.
Perhaps, Mr. Grimsby, you would be so good as to
open the door?"
Grimsby obeying with alacrity, the beautiful Isis
presently entered, exquisitely gowned. She gave
me smiling greeting, this lovely daughter of a singular
father, and whilst Grimsby deferentially held the
door wide open, managed to introduce into the studio,
without brushing it against the sides of the door, a
large brown paper bag.
CASE OF THE CHORD IN G
201
"Ah!" Moris Klaw exclaimed, "it is my odically
sterilized cushion. Place it here, my child." He
indicated a spot upon the floor. "My other engage-
ments do not allow of my sleeping here for more
than two hours, but, in that time, I shall hope to
recapture the etheric storm in the mind of the slayer
or the last great emotion in the brain of the slain.
Something, certainly, I shall get, for this was no
common crime."
From its paper wrappings Isis Klaw took a red
silk cushion and placed it upon the spot where the
dead man had been found.
I turned aside, shuddering. That any human
being, having seen what we had seen that day, could
lie down and, above all, could sleep upon that
haunted spot, was almost more than I could believe.
Yet such was Moris Klaw's intention, and that he
would carry it out I did not doubt.
"Isis, my child," he said, "awake me in two
hours."
Removing his caped coat and revealing the shabby
tweed suit which he wore beneath it, he spread the
garment on the carpet, stretched his gaunt shape.
upon it, and rested his head on the red cushion.
"Gentlemen," he said in his queer, rumbling tones,
"leave me to my slumber. When I awake, I per-
haps shall know something more about the man
who smoked"-he tapped long fingers upon his
breast pocket-"this cigarette."
202
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
We went out of the studio through the door leading
to the garden. Isis was last to leave and I heard her
father's voice:
"Isis, my child, be pleased to extinguish the
lights."
So, leaving the eccentric investigator to his dark
and ghastly vigil, we went up to the house; and, tak-
ing pity upon Grimsby, whose anxiety to talk to
Isis was almost pathetic, I sought out Parker, the
dead artist's manservant, and endeavoured to ob-
tain from him some useful information. In this,
however, I was wholly unsuccessful.
"He hadn't an enemy in the world, sir," the man
declared emotionally. "He was the best employer
I've ever had or am ever likely to have. I don't
deny that he had his little affairs, sir, but there
was nothing that left a nasty taste behind. Believe
me, there was no woman in it, like the Scotland
Yard men tried to make out."
And indeed, the more I considered the facts of the
case, the more inexplicable these became.
For instance, there were no signs of a struggle.
If one had taken place the murderer had removed
all traces of it before leaving. Upon the finger-
print evidence which Scotland Yard hoped to obtain,
I based little hope of result. But the astute percep-
tions of Moris Klaw had undoubtedly enabled him to
pick up a clue where no one else had found one; and
strange though his behaviour appeared to be, I had
CASE OF THE CHORD IN G
203
good reason to know that his subconscious mind,
termed by him "the astral negative," rarely failed
to obtain some record under conditions such as those
which, he maintained, prevail upon the scene of a
crime of violence.
When at the appointed time we returned to the
studio, we found it to be brightly lighted, and enter-
ing, discovered Moris Klaw engaged in squirting
verbena upon his high, bald forehead. He stooped
and picked up the caped coat.
"Ah, my friends," he said, "there are many laws
governing the functions of mind which have yet to be
classified. I think so; yes. Why is it that some
emotions register"-he waved his long hands in the
air—“indelibly; others, impermanently, and some,
not at all? I ask myself the question, and no one
replies. We are, then, ignorant, and stupid. To-
night"-he lowered his voice-"I do murder with
my bare hands! Yes! I am the assassin! My
motive"
"Yes, yes!" cried Grimsby, eagerly.
"No, no!" Moris Klaw frowned at him. "My
motive beats in my brain, my second brain, my
subconscious brain. Myself I do not see, nor my
victim; but I hear, I hear. I hear a sound!”
"A sound," Isis whispered "Do you mean a
horrible sound-his death cry?"
"No, no!" her father assured her. "I hear a
beautiful sound."
204
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
IV
Time passed and no arrest was made. Other mat-
ters engaged public attention, and the Chelsea
studio murder gradually dropped out of sight, oc-
cupying less and less space in the press and presently
disappearing altogether.
Between Inspector Grimsby and Moris Klaw a
definite breach occurred.
"He's either bluffing or else hiding something,'
the Inspector declared to me. "Why did he keep
that cigarette? What the devil was the sound he
heard, or thought he heard, or pretended he heard?
All I know is that I've made a fool of myself. There's
not a ghost of a clue."
I was not without sympathy for Grimsby. He
had grown so used to finding his difficulties resolved
by the genius of Wapping Old Stairs, that beyond
doubt in the Chelsea case he had promised more than
he had been able to perform, optimistically trusting
Klaw to provide light in the darkness; and the great
man had proved to be fallible.
It was a dreadful blow to Detective-Inspector
Grimsby, and, I must confess, a surprise to me. Al-
though I had no definite evidence, I nevertheless had
certain reasons to suppose that Moris Klaw was not
entirely inactive during this time. Twice I met him,
accompanied by the dazzling Isis, in the neighbour-
CASE OF THE CHORD IN G
205
hood of Queen's Hall, and on the second occasion
as he entered a car which was waiting for him:
"Mr. Searles," he said, "tell him, that Detective
Inspector, that all work and no play makes of Jean
a dull fellow. Recommend to him music. Tell him
he should sometimes steal an afternoon and at a
concert relax himself."
I reported the conversation to Grimsby in due
course and had never seen him more angry.
"He's pulling my leg!" he said. "It'll be a long
time before I ask him to help me again. Concerts!
What time have I got for concerts?"
Such, then, was the state of affairs at the time that
Len Hassett, a black-and-white artist of my acquaint-
ance whose work was beginning to attract attention,
leased the house and studio of ill-fame where poor
Pyke Webley had met his death.
Hassett was ultra-modern and very morbid, but
although he professed to have taken the place be-
cause its murderous atmosphere appealed to him, I
had more than a suspicion that the low rental, con-
sequent upon its evil reputation, had done much
more to influence his decision. However, in due
course I received an invitation to the house-warming,
and on the same day a telephone message from Moris
Klaw.
"Good morning, Mr. Searles," came his rumbling
greeting over the wires; "it is very wet again. This
206
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
appalling English climate becomes disastrous. I
have lost in one week two marmosets and a Peruvian
squirrel. They see the fog and rain, they sneeze,
they cough, they die. I have to make to you a
request, Mr. Searles: it is that you secure for myself
and Isis the invitation to Mr. Len Hassett's party at
his new studio."
"Certainly, Mr. Klaw," I replied, trying to keep a
note of surprise from my voice; "Hassett and I are
old friends. I have only to mention your name and
you will be heartily welcomed."
That Isis would be welcome I did not doubt, but,
mentally picturing the eccentric figure of Moris
Klaw at such a gathering, I could not deny that it
seemed out of place. However, I doubted not that
some purpose deeper than amusement underlay the
request, and the matter was arranged accordingly.
Moris Klaw called for me in a Daimler, wherein,
queenly, Isis reclined in an ermine cloak. I think I
had never before become so fully conscious of the
mystery enshrouding the life of this oddly assorted
pair as I did during that drive to Chelsea.
Who, I asked myself, was Moris Klaw, the in-
scrutable genius who so gladly offered his services
to the guardians of law and order?-who dealt in
beasts and birds and reptiles, old furniture and fusty
books?-who lived in one of the most unsavoury
quarters of London?-whose daughter was an un-
challenged beauty, possessed of clothes and jewels
་
CASE OF THE CHORD IN G
207
which never were purchased out of the profits of the
Wapping business? My reflections, however, availed
me nothing.
Arrived at Chelsea, we met our host in the lounge
hall of the house, and, introductions being over and
the beauty of Isis having annoyed every other pretty
woman in the place, I presently found myself escort-
ing Morris Klaw's daughter through the garden to
the studio, whither some of the party had preceded
us. We paused for a moment and looked in at the
window.
A group of a dozen people or so gathered around
the piano at the farther end of the place; but, nearer
to us, seated in a high armchair before the blazing
fire and caressing a black cat which rested upon his
knee, was a strange-looking, gaunt-faced man. Upon
his harsh features the dancing firelight painted odd
shadows, so that at one moment it was a smiling,
benevolent face, and, in the next, the face of a devil.
It was a mere illusion, of course, but when I turned
again to Isis and we proceeded toward the door, I
saw her biting her lip in sudden agitation, and:
"What is the matter?" I asked.
"Nothing," she replied "but what a queer-
looking man that was sitting before the fire."
Presently we met him, however, as well as the
black cat (which proved to belong to Len Hassett).
He was Serg Skobolov, a Russian pianist whose
reputation was growing by leaps and bounds. Upon
208
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
Isis his curious small eyes rested greedily; and
that she was repelled, the girl was unable to dis-
guise. In due course, when the merriment was in
full swing, there were songs, and a certain amount
of dancing took place; and then melting at the right
moment to the entreaties of Hassett, Skobolov
agreed to play.
"You know," said a lady journalist who was
sitting on the floor near me, "Skobolov has composed
numerous works but not one of them is published."
"Ah!" came a hoarse whisper. I glanced over my
shoulder and saw Moris Klaw standing in the shadow
behind us. "How strange! Does he refuse then to
publish his compositions?"
"Absolutely," the lady declared earnestly. "He
maintains that no one else could play them.'
99
"Is that so?" wheezed Moris Klaw. "Perhaps
he is right. Presently we shall hear and judge for
ourselves."
He became silent, as the pianist, seating himself,
began to speak:
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said in his broken
English, "you know that the friend of us all, our
good Hassett, takes this studio because it is haunted.
Here, murder is done, yes, and so I shall play to
you a prelude newly composed in which-it is appro-
priate I try to express in music the lust of slaying."
He paused amid an uncomfortable silence, and
then:
CASE OF THE CHORD IN G
209
"Some of you must know," he resumed, "that all
my compositions are emotions, attempts to paint in
chords things experienced. Some experiences one
cannot have and so can never paint-for atmosphere,
atmosphere, is everything! Now I shall paint for
you the story of this studio."
With that, he began to play; and although I had
never heard him before, I realized from the outset
that he was a master of his instrument. Indeed,
I thought, a genius. His theme and its treatment
alike were unusual, grotesque. There was some qual-
ity in the man's technique which I found myself
unable to define. He possessed uncanny power.
When, at last, the prelude ended, it was greeted by a
silence more eloquent than any applause.
It was only momentary, of course. Then came a
wild outburst of enthusiasm. Yet it had been long
enough, that moment of stillness, for me to hear.
the squirting of Moris Klaw's scent spray immedi-
ately behind me. And when at last the clapping
and shouting died down:
"That prelude," came his voice, almost in my ear,
"it has a bad smell. Soon, Isis my child, we must
go. It grows late. But perhaps Mr. Hassett will
permit me to telephone to my chauffeur, as I allow
him to go away? It is all right? Very well. How
wonderful is that prelude.'
""
210
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
V
Skobolov's attentions to Isis Klaw became very
marked. Presently, following some whispered words
from her father, I noticed with surprise that she had
ceased to avoid the Russian pianist, indeed was con-
senting to smile upon him. Hence, when presently
Moris Klaw's car arrived, I was prepared for Skobo-
lov's acceptance of an offer of a lift as far as his
hotel.
For my own part I confess quite frankly that I
disliked the man. I had disliked him on sight, and
nearer acquaintance did nothing to dispel that first
impression. That Isis disliked him, also, I could
not doubt. Therefore I divined that she was playing
a part, although its purpose defeated my imagina-
tion.
Throughout the drive from Chelsea to the hotel
Moris Klaw discussed music, a subject with which I
had not hitherto believed him to be acquainted.
Perhaps his intention was to exhibit Skobolov's in-
tense egotism, for indeed the man was a monument
to his own colossal vanity. His genius I could not
dispute, but his personality was detestable.
I had foreseen that he would try to detain the
party at his hotel, or, rather, that he would try to
detain Isis. (I had no doubt whatever that he would
gladly have excused both Moris Klaw and myself.)
But I had not been prepared for Klaw's acceptance
CASE OF THE CHORD IN G
211
of the offer. However, as we descended from the
car and I hesitated whether to accept Skobolov's
grudging inclusion of myself in the party, or to walk
home, I detected an unmistakable expression in
Moris Klaw's queer eyes, twinkling behind the peb-
bles of his pince-nez.
Suddenly the fact came home to me that I was a
minor actor in some mysterious comedy directed by
the genius of Wapping Old Stairs.
The Russian occupied a luxurious suite, and
Moris Klaw, with reluctance which I could see to be
feigned, agreed at Skobolov's pressing invitation to
drink one glass of wine and then to depart for home.
Skobolov did his best to make himself agreeable,
proffering cigars and cigarettes, and opening a bottle
of Bollinger. Moris Klaw and I declined to smoke,
but Isis accepted a cigarette and lay back in a deep
lounge chair blowing smoke rings and watching the
vainglorious Russian musician through half-lowered
lashes.
There was a grand piano in the room, and Moris
Klaw, who had not touched his wine, prevailed upon
Skobolov to play for us once more the prelude which
we had heard at Hassett's studio.
The pianist shrugged, glanced at Isis, and then
seated himself at the instrument. Placing his ciga-
rette in a little ashtray, he laid his fingers caressingly
on the keyboard, and once more my soul was har-
rowed by those indescribable strains.
212
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
As the sound of the last chord died away:
"Good," said Moris Klaw, "excellent, most excel-
lent. And now, please"-he stood up-"I am an
old nuisance, an absent old foolish. Do you object
that I telephone to my chauffeur? I just remember
that Isis leaves her ermine cloak in the car.
Is it not
so, my child?"
"Good heavens, yes!" Isis exclaimed.
He crossed the room to the telephone, circling
ungainly around the piano, raised the instrument,
and:
"Will you be pleased to ask Mr. Moris Klaw's
chauffeur to bring in from the car the cloak," he said,
distinctly. "Yes, all right, very well." He hung
the receiver and turned to face us again, shrugging
his shoulders. "So greatly tempting," he explained,
"to some prowler thief."
up
I now became aware that Isis had suddenly grown
very pale. She had stood up and was watching
Skobolov intently. He seemed rather to be enjoying
the scrutiny of her fine dark eyes-when there came
a peremptory rap upon the door.
"Come in!" said the Russian sharply.
The door opened and Detective-Inspector Grims-
by stood on the threshold!
Moris Klaw nodded in Skobolov's direction, and,
literally stupefied with astonishment, I heard
Grimsby say:
"Serg Skobolov, I arrest you on a charge of having
CASE OF THE CHORD IN G
213
murdered Mr. Pyke Webley at his studio on the night
of November the fourteenth. I must warn you-
But he got no further.
99
Uttering a sound which I can only describe as the
roar of a wild beast, Skobolov leapt upon him, clasped
his hands about the speaker's throat, and hurled
him to the floor!
To Moris Klaw, Grimsby owed his life. The
Russian was kneeling on the detective's chest and
literally squeezing life out of him, when Klaw, sur-
prisingly agile, sprang forward. He stooped over
the would-be murderer and performed some simple
operation which threw Skobolov upon his back.
In two seconds the madman was up again; and,
even now, I sometimes see in my dreams that devil
face, transfigured by such evil as I could not have
supposed to reside in any human being. He opened
and closed his hands in a horrible, writhing, sugges-
tive movement, looked at Grimsby who was trying
slowly, painfully to struggle to his feet, looked at Isis,
looked at Moris Klaw, looked at myself. Then,
bursting into peals of laughter, he ran to the French
windows, threw one open, sprang on to the parapet
outside, and uttering one final frenzied shriek, leapt
into the courtyard sixty feet below!
VI
"Everyone will say," Moris Klaw declared, "he
was a failure, that old fool from Wapping'-for how
214
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
can a dead man confess, and what use for the news-
papers to tell the public why this poor Russian leaps
from his window?" He shrugged his shoulders,
looking around my study. "You say to me," he
continued, addressing Grimsby: 'What is the sound
you hear when you sleep in the studio?' and I do not
tell you because you would not understand. But
now I shall tell you. I hear, my friend, a chord
in G Minor!
"Ah! you wag your head. I knew you would
wag your head! But beware that your brains do
not rattle. This is what I hear, and this is the thing
in the mind of the murderer at the moment that he
does the murder-a chord in G Minor, Mr. Grimsby!
I, the old fool, have the music sense, and this chord
it intrigues me. Why? because it is not playable-
yet it is a chord upon a piano."
"Not playable!" Grimsby exclaimed.
"Not playable, my friend, except by a man having
enormous hands! And also, my good Grimsby, the
poor Webley could not have been strangled as he
was except by one having enormous hands.
"This is what I first perceive when I see his body,
and what for one absurd moment I dream that you
have perceived also. I, myself, have large hands,
but although I try I cannot span within inches of the
marks made upon his throat by the monster who
kills him. And so, when I hear this chord, and I
question and I try and I find that it cannot be played
CASE OF THE CHORD IN G
215
by any normal hand, I say, 'Yes! it is a musician with
abnormal hands!' And I look for him and I listen
for him. And to him I have one other clue-a
hashish cigarette."
"What kind of cigarette?" Grimsby muttered.
"I said hashish, my friend-a cigarette containing
the drug Indian hemp; a kind of cigarette very rarely
met in England. In that ashtray, among a dozen
others, I detect it immediately. Is it not strange"-
he turned to me-"how the murderer is drawn to the
place of the murder? It is why, when I hear of the
house-warming, I plan to go. Perhaps it is accident
-perhaps something else.
"He was a mad genius, that Skobolov. He tries
to know supreme emotion that he may write supreme
music. Perhaps he succeeds. Who can say? But
his compositions cannot live-for no other man can
play them, on the piano at any rate. Where did
he meet the poor Webley? Who can say? Perhaps
they were acquainted, perhaps they met in the street.
Webley was Bohemian. He invites Skobolov into
the lonely studio. Good! There could be no
evidence. It was his opportunity to know the
emotion of murder and to get safe away!
"To-night I hear it again-the dream chord: I
see his great hands. But he smokes no cigarette in
the studio, not until he has returned to his own rooms.
For this I waited, this last piece of evidence. Be-
hold!"
216
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
From his pocket-case he took out two cigarette
stumps.
"To-night, in the studio, at last I hear again my
dream chord-the chord in G, in G Minor; yet when
I telephone to you, my good Grimsby, you think I
am the old fool. I say, 'Hurry to Chelsea. I
await.' You obey, but you reluct. I say, 'When
at the place we go I send a message, "the cloak is in
the car." Enter.' You enter and you permit the
strangler to escape the law."
He shrugged, stooped to where his brown bowler
rested upon the floor beside him, took out the scent
spray and squirted verbena upon his forehead.
"I have the hot brain," he explained; "it is the
activity. But yours, my friend"-turning to
Grimsby-"is as cool as a lemon."
EIGHTH EPISODE
CASE OF THE HEADLESS MUMMIES
T
I
HE mysteries which my eccentric friend,
Moris Klaw, was most successful in handling
undoubtedly were those which had their origin
in kinks of the human brain or in the mysterious
history of some relic of ancient times.
I have seen his theory of the Cycle of Crime proved
triumphantly time and time again; I have known
him successfully to demonstrate how the history of
a valuable gem or curio automatically repeats itself,
subject, it would seem, to that obscure law of chance
into which he had made particular inquiry. Then
his peculiar power-assiduously cultivated by a
course of obscure study of recovering from the
atmosphere, the ether, call it what you will, the
thought-forms-the ideas thrown out by the schem-
ing mind of the criminal he sought for-enabled
him to succeed where any ordinary investigator must
inevitably have failed.
"They destroy," he would say in his odd, rumbling
voice, "the clumsy tools of their crime; they hide
217
218
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
away the knife, the bludgeon; they sop up the blood,
they throw it, the jemmy, the dead man, the suffo-
cated poor infant, into the ditch, the pool-and
they leave intact the odic negative, the photograph
of their sin, the thought thing in the air!" He
would tap his high yellow brow significantly. "Here
upon this sensitive plate I reproduce it, the hanging
evidence! The headless child is buried in the gar-
den, but the thought of the beheader is left to lie
about. I pick it up. Poof! he swings-that child-
slayer! I triumph. He is a dead man. What
an art is the art of the odic photograph.”
But I propose to relate here an instance of Moris
Klaw's amazing knowledge in matters of archæ-
ology of the history of relics. In his singular em-
porium at Wapping, where dwelt the white rats, the
singing canary, the cursing parrot, and the other
stock-in-trade of this supposed dealer in oddities,
was furthermore a library probably unique. It con-
tained obscure works on criminology; it contained
catalogues of every relic known to European collec-
tors with elaborate histories of the same. What else
it contained I am unable to say, for the dazzling Isis
Klaw was a jealous librarian.
You who have followed these records will have
made the acquaintance of Coram, the curator of the
Menzies Museum; and it was through Coram that I
first came to hear of the inexplicable beheading of
mummies, which, commencing with that of Mr.
THE HEADLESS MUMMIES
219
Pettigrew's valuable mummy of the priestess Hor-
ankhu, developed into a perfect epidemic. No more
useless outrage could well be imagined than the
decapitation of an ancient Egyptian corpse; and if
I was surprised when I heard of the first case, my
surprise became stark amazement when yet other
mummies began mysteriously to lose their heads.
But I will deal with the first instance, now, as it was
brought under my notice by Coram.
He rang me up early one morning.
"I say, Searles," he said; "a very odd thing has
happened. You've heard me speak of Pettigrew
the collector; he lives out Wandsworth way; he's
one of our trustees. Well, some demented burglar
broke into his house last night, took nothing, but
cut off the head of a valuable mummy!"
"Good Heavens!" I cried. "What an original
idea!"
"Highly so," agreed Coram. "The police are
hopelessly mystified, and as I know you are keen
on this class of copy I thought you might like to run
down and have a chat with Pettigrew. Shall I tell
him you are coming?"
"By all means," I said, and made an arrangement
forthwith.
Accordingly, about eleven o'clock, I presented
myself at a gloomy Georgian house standing well
back from the high road and screened by an unkempt
shrubbery. Mr. Mark Pettigrew, a familiar figure
220
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
at Sotheby auctions, was a little shrivelled man,
clean-shaven, and with the complexion of a dried
apricot. His big spectacles seemed to occupy a great
proportion of his face, but his eyes twinkled merrily
and his humour was as dry as his appearance.
"Glad to see you, Mr. Searles," he said. "You've
had some experience of the outré, I believe, and
where two constables, an imposing inspector, and a
plain-clothes gentleman who looked like a horse have
merely upset my domestic arrangements, you may be
able to make some intelligent suggestion.'
99
He conducted me to a large gloomy room in which
relics, principally Egyptian, were arranged and
ticketed with museum-like precision. Before a
wooden sarcophagus containing the swathed figure of
a mummy he stopped, pointing. He looked as though
he had come out of a sarcophagus himself.
"Hor-ankhu," he said, "a priestess of Sekhet; a
very fine specimen, Mr. Searles. I was present when
it was found. See here is her head!"
Stooping, he picked up the head of the mummy.
Very cleanly and scientifically it had been unwrapped
and severed from the trunk. It smelt strongly of
bitumen, and the shrivelled features reminded me
of nothing so much as of Mr. Mark Pettigrew.
"Did you ever hear of a more senseless thing?"
he asked. "Come over and look at the window where
he got in."
We crossed the dark apartment, and the collector
THE HEADLESS MUMMIES
221
drew my attention to a round hole which had been
drilled in the glass of one of the French windows
opening on a kind of miniature prairie which once
had been a lawn.
"I am having shutters fitted," he went on. "It
is so easy to cut a hole in the glass and open the
catch of these windows."
"Very easy," I agreed. "Was any one disturbed?"
"No one," he replied, excitedly; "that's the insane
part of the thing. The burglar, with all the night
before him and with cases containing portable and
really priceless objects about him, contented himself
with decapitating the priestess. What on earth did
he want her head for? Whatever he wanted it for,
why the devil didn't he take it?"
We stared at each other blankly.
You
"I fear," said Pettigrew, "I have been guilty of
injustice to my horsey visitor, the centaur.
look as stupid as the worst of us!"
"I feel stupid,” I said.
"You are!" Pettigrew assured me with cheerful
impertinence. "So am I, so are the police; but
the biggest fool of the lot is the fool who came here
last night and cut off the head of my mummy."
I
That, then, is all which I have occasion to relate
regarding the first of these mysterious outrages.
was quite unable to propound any theory covering
the facts, to Pettigrew's evident annoyance; he
assured me that I was very stupid, and insisted upon
222
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
opening a magnum of champagne. I then returned
to my rooms, and since reflection upon the subject
promised to be unprofitable, had dismissed it from
my mind, when some time during the evening Inspec-
tor Grimsby rang me up from the Yard.
"Hullo, Mr. Searles," he said; "I hear you called
on Mr. Pettigrew this morning?"
I replied in the affirmative.
"Did anything strike you?"
"No; were you on the case?"
"I wasn't on the case then, but I'm on it now."
"How's that?"
"Well, there's been another mummy beheaded in
Sotheby's auction rooms!"
II
I knew quite well what was expected of me.
"Where are you speaking from?" I asked.
"The auction rooms.'
,,
"I will meet you there in an hour," I said, "and
bring Moris Klaw if I can find him."
"Good," replied Grimsby, with much satisfaction
in his voice; "this case ought to be right in his line.”
I chartered a taxi and proceeded without delay
to the insalubrious neighbourhood of Wapping Old
Stairs. At the head of the blind alley which harbours
the Klaw emporium I directed the man to wait.
The gloom was very feebly dispelled by a wavering
gaslight in the shed-like front of the shop. River
THE HEADLESS MUMMIES
223
noises were about me. Somewhere a drunken man
was singing. An old lady who looked like a panto-
mime dame was critically examining a mahogany
chair with only half a back, which formed one of
the exhibits displayed before the establishment.
A dilapidated person whose nose chronically
blushed for the excesses of its owner hovered about
the prospective purchaser. This was William, whose
exact position in the Klaw establishment I had never
learned, but who apparently acted during his inter-
vals of sobriety as a salesman.
"Good evening," I said. "Is Mr. Moris Klaw at
home?"
"He is, sir," husked the derelict; "but he's very
busy, sir, I believe, sir."
"Tell him Mr. Searles has called."
"Yes, sir," said William; and, turning to the dame:
"Was you thinking of buyin' that chair, mum, after
you've quite done muckin' it about?"
He retired into the cavernous depths of the shop,
and I followed him as far as the dimly seen counter.
"Moris Klaw, Moris Klaw! The devil's come for
you!"
Thus the invisible parrot hailed my entrance.
Indescribable smells, zoo-like, with the fusty odour
of old books and the unclassifiable perfume of half-
rotten furniture, assailed my nostrils; and mingling
with it was the distinct scent of reptile life. Scufflings
and scratchings sounded continuously about me,
224
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
punctuated with squeals. Then came the rumbling
voice of Moris Klaw.
"Ah, Mr. Searles-good evening, Mr. Searles! It
is the Pettigrew mummy, is it not?"
He advanced through the shadows, his massive
figure arrayed for travelling, in the caped coat, his
toneless beard untidy as ever, his pince-nez glittering,
his high bald brow yellow as that of a Chinaman.
"There has been a second outrage," I said, "at
Sotheby's."
"So?" said Moris Klaw, with interest; "another
mummy is executed!"
"Yes, Inspector Grimsby has asked us to join him
there."
Moris Klaw stooped and from beneath the counter
took out his flat-topped brown bowler. From its lin-
ing he extracted a cylindrical scent spray and mingled
with the less pleasing perfumes that of verbena.
"A cooling Roman custom, Mr. Searles," he
rumbled, "so refreshing when one lives with rats.
So it is Mr. Grimsby who is puzzled again? It is
Mr. Grimsby who needs the poor old fool to hold the
lantern for him, so that he, the clever Grimsby, can
pick up the credit out of the darkness! And why
not, Mr. Searles, and why not? It is his business;
it is my pleasure."
He raised his voice. "Isis! Isis!"
Out into the light of the fluttering gas lamp, out
from that nightmare abode, stepped Isis Klaw-
THE HEADLESS MUMMIES
225
looking more grotesque than a French fashion plate
in an ironmonger's catalogue. She wore a costume
of lettuce-green silk, absolutely plain and unrelieved
by any ornament, which rendered it the more remark-
able. It was cut low at the neck, and at the point
of the V, suspended upon a thin gold chain, hung a
big emerald. Her darkly beautiful face was one to
inspire a painter seeking a model for the Queen of
Sheba, but an ultra-modern note was struck by a
hat of some black, gauzy material which loudly
proclaimed its Paris origin. She greeted me with
her wonderful smile.
"What, then," I said. "Were you about to go
out?"
"When I hear who it is," rumbled Moris Klaw,
"I know that we are about to go out; and behold
we are ready!"
He placed the quaint bowler on his head and
passed through to the front of the shop.
"William," he admonished the ripe-nosed sales-
man, "there is here a smell of fourpenny ale. It
will be your ruin, William. You will close at half-
past nine, and be sure you do not let the cat in the
cupboard with the white mice. See that the goat
does not get at the Dutch bulbs. They will kill him,
that goat-those bulbs; he has for them a passion."
The three of us entered the waiting cab; and
within half an hour we arrived at the famous auction
rooms. The doors were closed and barred, but a
226
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
constable who was on duty there evidently had
orders to admit us.
The thing we had come to see lay upon the table
with an electric lamp burning directly over it. The
effect was indescribably weird. All about in the
shadows fantastic "lots" seemed to leer at us. A
famous private collection was to be sold in the
morning and a rank of mummies lined one wall,
whilst, from another, stony Pharaohs, gods and
goddesses scorned us through the gloom. We were
a living group in a place of long-dead things. And
yellow on the table beneath the white light, with
partially unwrapped coils of discoloured linen hang-
ing gruesomely from it, lay a headless mummy!
I heard the spurt of Moris Klaw's scent spray be-
hind me, and a faint breath of verbena stole to my
nostrils.
"Pah!" came the rumbling voice; "this air is
full of deadness!"
"Good evening, Mr. Klaw," said Grimsby, appear-
ing from somewhere out of the gloom. "I am so
glad you have come." He bowed to Isis.
you do, Miss Klaw?"
"How do
The bright green figure moved forward into the
pool of light. I think I had never seen a more
singular picture than that of Isis Klaw bending over
the decapitated mummy. Indeed, the whole scene
would have delighted Rembrandt.
"I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Klaw," said a
THE HEADLESS MUMMIES
227
middle-aged gentleman, stepping up to the curio
dealer; "the Inspector has been telling me about
you.
""
Moris Klaw bowed, and his daughter turned to
him with a little nod of the head.
"It is the same period," she said, "as Mr. Petti-
grew's mummy. Possibly this was a priest of the
same temple. Certainly both are of the same dy-
nasty."
"It is instructive," rumbled Moris Klaw, "but so
confusing."
"It's amazing, Mr. Klaw," said Grimsby. "If I
understand Miss Klaw rightly, this is the mummy of
someone who lived at the same period as the priestess
whose mummy is in Mr. Pettigrew's possession?"
"I do not trouble to look," rumbled Moris Klaw,
who, in fact, was staring all about the room. "If
Isis has said so, it is so.
دو
"If I happened to be superstitious," said Grimsby,
"I should think this was a sort of curse being ful-
filled, or some fantastic thing of that sort.'
""
"You should call a curse fantastic, eh, my friend?"
said Moris Klaw. "Yet here in your own country
you have seen a whole family that was cursed to be
wiped out mysteriously. Am I with you?"
Grimsby looked very perplexed.
"There's nothing very mysterious about how the
thing was done," he said. "Some madman got in
here with a knife early in the evening. It's always
228
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
pretty dark, even during the daytime. But the mys-
tery is his object."
"His object is a mystery, yes," agreed Klaw. "I
would sleep here in order to procure a mental nega-
tive of what he hoped or what he feared, this lunatic
headsman, only that I know he is a man possessed."
"Possessed!" I cried; and even Isis looked sur-
prised.
"I said possessed," continued Klaw, impressively.
"He is some madman with a one idea. His mad
brain will have charged the ether"-he waved his
long arms right and left-"with mad thoughts. The
room of Mr. Pettigrew also will be filled with these
grotesque thought-forms. Certainly he is insane,
this butcher of mummies. In this case I shall rely,
not upon the odic photography, not upon that great
science the Cycle of Crime, but upon my library."
None of us, I am sure, entirely understood his
meaning; and following a brief silence, during which,
in a curiously muffled way, the sounds of the traffic
in Wellington Street came to us as we stood there
around that modern bier with its 4000-year-old bur-
den, Grimsby asked, with hesitancy:
"Don't you want to make any investigations,
Mr. Klaw?"
Then Moris Klaw startled us all.
"I have a thought!" he cried, loudly. "Name of
a dog! I have a thought!"
Grabbing his brown bowler, which he had laid on
THE HEADLESS MUMMIES
229
the table beside the headless mummy, "Come, Isis!"
he cried, and grasped the girl by the arm. "I have
yet another thought, most disturbing! Mr. Searles,
would you be so good as also to come?"
Wondering greatly whence we were bound and
upon what errand, I hastened down the room after
them, leaving Inspector Grimsby staring blankly. I
think he was rather disappointed with the result of
Moris Klaw's inquiry-if inquiry this hasty visit may
be termed. He was disappointed, too, at having
spent so short a time in the company of the charming
Isis.
The middle-aged gentleman came running to let
us out.
"Good-night, Inspector Grimsby!" called Moris
Klaw.
"Good-night! good-night, Miss Klaw!"
"Good-night, Mr. Someone who has not been in-
troduced!" said Klaw.
"My name is Welby," smiled the other.
"Good-night, Mr. Welby!" said Moris Klaw.
III
During the whole of the journey back to Wapping,
Moris Klaw regaled me with anecdotes of travels in
the Yucatan Peninsula. I had never met a man
before who had ventured fully to explore those
deadly swamps; but Moris Klaw chatted about the
Izamal temples as unconcernedly as another man
230
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
might chat about the Paris boulevards. Isis took no
part in the conversation, from which I gathered that,
although she seemed to accompany her father every-
where, she had not accompanied him into the jungles
of Yucatan.
"In the heart of those forests, Mr. Searles," he
whispered, "are stranger things than these headless
mummies. Do you know that the secret of those
great temples buried in the swamps and the jungles
and guarded only by serpents and slimy, crawling
things, is a door which science has yet to unlock?
What people built them, and what god was wor-
shipped in them? Suppose"-he bent to my ear-
"I hold the key to that riddle; am I assured to be
immortal? Yes? No?"
His conversation, although it often seemed to be
studiously eccentric, was always that of a man of
powerful and unusual mind, a man of vast and
unique experience. I was rather sorry when we ar-
rived at our destination.
As the cab drew up at the head of the court, I saw
that the shop of Moris Klaw was in darkness; but
again telling the man to wait, we walked down past
the warehouse, beyond whose bulk tided muddy
Thames, and my eccentric companion producing a
key from one of the bulging pockets of his caped coat
inserted it into the lock of a door which looked less
like a door than a section of a dilapidated hoarding.
The door swung open.
THE HEADLESS MUMMIES
231
"Ah!" he hissed. "It was not locked!"
Klaw struck a match and peered into the odorous
darkness.
"William!" he rumbled.
"William!"
But there was no reply. Isis suddenly laid her
hand upon my arm, and it occurred to me that for
once her wonderful composure was shaken.
"Something has happened!" she whispered.
Her father lighted a gas-burner, and the yellow
light flared up, reclaiming from the gloom furniture,
pictures, cages, glass cases, statuettes, heaps of cheap
jewellery and false teeth, books, and a hundred-and-
one other items of that weird stock-in-trade.
Then, under the littered counter we found William
ying flat on his back with his arms spread widely.
"Ah! cochon!" muttered Klaw; "beer-swilling
pig!"
He stooped to raise the head of the prostrate man,
and then to my surprise dropped upon his knees
beside him, stooped yet lower, and sniffed suspi-
ciously. Again Isis Klaw seized my arm, and her
dark eyes were opened very widely as she leaned
forward watching her father. He stood up, holding
a glass in his hand which yet contained some drops
of what was apparently beer. At this, too, he sniffed.
He walked over to the gaslight and examined the
fluid closely, whilst Isis and I watched him, together.
Finally Moris Klaw inserted a long white forefinger
into the dirty glass and applied the tip to his tongue.
232
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
"Opium!" he said.
were put in this beer.”
"Many drops of pure opium
He turned to me with a curious expression upon
his parchment-coloured face.
"Mr. Searles," he said, "my second idea was a
good idea. I shall now surprise you."
He led the way through that neat and business-like
office which opened out of the unutterably dirty and
untidy shop. Although within the shop and in front
of it only gaslight was used, in the office he switched
on an electric lamp. But we did not delay long in
Moris Klaw's sanctum, lined with its hundreds of
books, its obscure works of criminology, its records
of strange things: we proceeded through another
door and up a thickly carpeted stair.
I had never before penetrated thus far into the
habitable portion of Moris Klaw's establishment;
the book-lined office hitherto had marked the limit
of my explorations. But now, as more electric lights
were switched on, I saw that we stood upon a wide
landing panelled in massive black oak. Armoured
figures stood sentinel-like against the walls, and
several magnificent specimens of Chinese porcelain
met my gaze. I might have thought myself in some
old English baronial hall. Next we entered a big,
rectangular room, which I wholly despair of describ-
ing. Apparently it was used as a study, a library,
a laboratory, and a warehouse for all sorts of things,
from marble Buddhas to innumerable pairs of boots.
THE HEADLESS MUMMIES
233
Also, there was in it a French stove; and upon a
Persian coffee table stood a frying pan containing a
cooked sausage solidified in its own fat. There was
clear evidence, moreover, in the form of a rolled-up
hammock, that the place served as a bedroom.
Altogether there were four mummies in the apart-
ment. One of these, partly unwrapped, lay amongst
the litter on the floor-headless!
"Mon Dieu!" cried Isis, clasping her hands; "it
is uncanny, this!"
She was evidently excited, for her French accent
suddenly asserted itself to a marked degree. Moris
Klaw, from somewhere amongst the rubbish at his
feet, picked up the severed head of the mummy and
stared at it intently. In the stillness I could hear
the river noises very distinctly, and a sort of sub-
terranean lapping and creaking which suggested that
at high tide the cellars of the establishment became
flooded. Moris Klaw dropped the head from his
hands. It fell with a dull thud to the floor.
From the lining of his hat he took out the inevita-
ble scent spray and moistened his brow with verbena.
"I need the cool brain, Mr. Searles," he said. "I,
the old cunning, the fox, the wily, am threatened
with defeat. This slaughter of mummies it surpasses
my experience. I am nonplussed; I am a stupid old
fool. Let me think!"
Isis was looking about her in a startled way.
"It is horribly uncanny, Miss Klaw," I said. "But
234
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
the drugging of the man downstairs points to very
human agency. Perhaps if we could revive him-
"He will not revive," interrupted Moris Klaw,
"for twelve hours at least. In his beer was enough
opium to render unconscious the rhinoceros!"
"Is there anything missing?" I asked.
"Nothing," rumbled Klaw. "He came for the
mummy. Isis, will you prepare for us those cooling
drinks that help the fevered mind, and from down-
stairs bring me the seventh volume of the 'Books of
the Temples.""
Isis Klaw immediately walked forward to the door.
"And Isis, my child," added her father, "remove
the tall cage to the top end of the shop. Presently
that William's snores will awake the Borneo squirrel.”
As the girl departed, Klaw opened an inner door
and ushered me into a dainty white room, an amaz-
ing apartment indeed, a true Parisian boudoir. The
air was heavy with the scent of roses, for bowls of
white and pink roses were everywhere. Klaw lighted
a silver table lamp with a unique silver gauze
shade apparently lined with pale rose-coloured silk.
Evidently this apartment belonged to Isis, and was
as appropriate for her, exquisite Parisian that she
seemed to be, as the weird barn through which we
had come was an appropriate abode for her father.
When presently Isis returned I saw her for the
first time in her proper setting, a dainty green figure
in a white frame. Moris Klaw opened the bulky
THE HEADLESS MUMMIES
235
leather-bound volume which she had handed to him,
and whilst I sat sipping my wine and watching him,
he busily turned over the pages (apparently French
MS.) in quest of the reference he sought.
"Ah!" he cried, in sudden triumph; "vaguely I
had it in my memory, but here it is, the clue. I
will translate for you, Mr. Searles, what is written
here: "The "Book of the Lamps," which was revealed
to the priest, Pankhaur, and by him revealed only to
the Queen'-it was the ancient Egyptian Queen,
Hatshepsu, Mr. Searles 'was kept locked in the
secret place beneath the altar, and each high priest
of the temple—all of whom were of the family of
Pankhaur-held the key and alone might consult
the magic writing. In the 14th dynasty, Seteb was
high priest, and was the last of the family of Pank-
haur. At his death the newly appointed priest,
receiving the key of the secret place, complained to
Pharaoh that the "Book of the Lamps" was miss-
ing."
He closed the volume and placed it on a little
table beside him.
“Isis,” he rumbled, looking across at his daughter,
"does the mystery become clear to you? Am I not
an old fool? Mr. Searles, there is only one other
copy of this work"-he laid a long white hand upon
the book "known to European collectors. Do I
know where that copy is? Yes? No? I think so!"
There was triumph in his hoarse voice. Personally
236
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
I was quite unable to see in what way the history
of the "Book of the Lamps" bore upon the case of
the headless mummies; but Moris Klaw evidently
considered that it afforded a clue. He stood up.
"Isis," he said, "bring me my catalogue of the
mummies of the Bubastite priests.'
99
That imperious beauty departed in meek obedience.
"Mr. Searles," said Moris Klaw, "this will be for
Inspector Grimsby another triumph; but without
these records of a poor old fool, who shall say if the
one that beheads mummies had ever been detected?
I neglected to secure the odic negative because I
thought I had to deal with a madman; but I was
more stupid than an owl. This decapitating of
mummies is no madman's work, but is done with a
purpose, my friend-with a wonderful purpose."
IV
The Menzies Museum (scene of my first meeting
with Moris Klaw) was not yet opened to the public
when Coram (the curator), Moris Klaw, Grimsby,
and I stood in the Egyptian Room before a case con-
taining mummies. The room adjoining the Greek
Room-had been the scene of the dreadful tragedies
which first had acquainted me with the wonderful
methods of the eccentric investigator.
"Whoever broke into Sotheby's last night, Mr.
Klaw," said Grimsby, "knew the ins and outs of the
THE HEADLESS MUMMIES
237
place; knew it backward. It's my idea that he
was known to the people there. After having cut
off the head of the mummy he probably walked out
openly. Then, again, it must have been somebody
who knew the habits of Mr. Pettigrew's household
that got at his mummy. Of course"-his eyes
twinkled with a satisfaction which he could not con-
ceal-"I'm very sorry to hear that our man has
proved too clever for you! Think of a burglar
breaking into Mr. Moris Klaw's house!"
"Think of it, my friend," rumbled the other;
"if it makes you laugh go on thinking of it, and you
will grow fat!"
Grimsby openly winked at me. He was out of
his depth himself, and was not displeased to find the
omniscient Moris Klaw apparently in a similar posi-
tion.
"I am not resentful," continued Klaw, "and I
will capture for you the mummy man.'
"What?" cried Grimsby. "Are you on the track?"
"I will tell you something, my laughing friend.
You will secretly watch this Egyptian Room like the
cat at the mouse-hole, and presently-I expect it
will be at night-he will come here, this hunter of
mummies!"
Grimsby stared incredulously.
"I don't doubt your word, Mr. Klaw," he said;
"but I don't see how you can possibly know that.
238
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
Why should he go for the mummies here rather than
for those in one of the other museums or in private
collections?"
"Why do you order a bottle of Bass," rasped Klaw,
"in a saloon, rather than a bottle of water or a bottle
of vinegar? It is because what you want is a bottle
of Bass. Am I a damn fool? There are others. I
am not alone in my
foolishness!"
The group broke up: Grimsby, very puzzled, going
off to make arrangements to have the Egyptian
Room watched night and day, and Coram, Klaw,
and I walking along in the direction of the Greek
Room.
"I have no occasion to remind you, Mr. Klaw,”
said Coram, "that the Menzies Museum is a hard
nut for any burglar to crack. We have a night
watchman, you will remember, who hourly patrols
every apartment. For any one to break into the
Egyptian Room, force one of the cases and take out
a mummy, would be a task extremely difficult to
perform undetected."
"This mummy hunter," replied Klaw, “can per-
form it with ease; but because we shall all be waiting
for him he cannot perform it undetected.”
"I shouldn't think there is much likelihood of
any attempt during the day?" I said.
"There is no likelihood," agreed Klaw; "but I
like to see that Grimsby busy! The man with the
knife to decapitate mummies will come to-night.
THE HEADLESS MUMMIES
239
Without fear he will come, for how is he to know
that an old fool from Wapping anticipates his
arrival?"
We quitted the Museum together. The affair
brought back to my mind the gruesome business of
the Greek Room murders, and for the second time in
my life I made arrangements to watch in the Menzies
Museum at night.
On several occasions during the day I found myself
thinking of this most singular affair and wondering
in what way the "Book of the Lamps," mentioned by
Moris Klaw, could be associated with it. I was quite
unable to surmise, too, how Klaw had divined that
the Menzies Museum would become the scene of the
next outrage.
We had arranged to dine with Coram in his apart-
ments, which adjoined the Museum buildings, and an
oddly mixed party we were, comprising Coram, his
daughter, Moris Klaw, Isis Klaw, Grimsby, and
myself.
A man had gone on duty in the Egyptian Room
directly the doors were closed to the public, and we
had secretly arranged to watch the place from night-
fall onward. The construction of the room greatly
facilitated our plan; for there was a long glass sky-
light in the centre of its roof, and by having the
blinds drawn back we could look down into the room
from a landing window of a higher floor-a portion
of the curator's house.
240
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
Dinner over, Isis Klaw departed.
"You will not remain, Isis," said her father.
"It is so unnecessary. Good-night, my child!"
Accordingly, the deferential and very admiring
Grimsby descended with Coram to see Isis off in a
taxi. I marvelled to think of her returning to that
tumble-down, water-logged ruin in Wapping.
"Now, Mr. Grimsby," said Moris Klaw, when we
four investigators had gathered together again, "you
will hide in the case with the mummies!"
"But I may find myself helpless! How do we
know that any particular case is going to be opened?
Besides, I don't know what to expect!"
"Blessed is he that expecteth little, my friend.
It is quite possible that no attempt will be made
to-night. In that event you will have to be locked
in again to-morrow night!"
Grimsby accordingly set out. He held a key to
the curator's private door, which opened upon the
Greek Room, and also the key of a wall case. Moris
Klaw had especially warned him against making the
slightest noise. In fact, he had us all agog with
curiosity and expectation. As he and Coram and I,
having opened, very carefully, the landing window,
looked down through the skylight into the Egyptian
Room, Grimsby appeared beneath us.
He was
carrying an electric pocket torch.
Opening the wall case nearest to the lower end of
the room, he glanced up rapidly, then stepped within,
THE HEADLESS MUMMIES
241
reclosing the glass door. As Klaw had pointed out
earlier in the evening, an ideal hiding place existed
between the side of the last sarcophagus and the
angle of the wall.
99
"I hope he has refastened the catch," said our
eccentric companion; "but not with noisiness.'
"Why do you fear his making a noise?" asked
Coram, curiously.
"Outside, upon the landing," replied Moris Klaw,
"is a tall piece of a bas-relief; it leans back against
the wall. You know it?"
"Certainly."
"To-night, you did not look behind it, in the
triangular space so formed."
"There's no occasion. A man could not get in
there."
"He could not, you say? No? That exploits
to me, Mr. Coram, that you have no eye for capacity!
But if you are wrong, what then?"
66
Any one hiding there would have to remain in
hiding until the morning. He could not gain access
to any of the rooms; all are locked, and he could
not go downstairs, because of the night attendant in
the hallway."
"No? Yes? You are two times wrong! First-
someone is concealed there!"
"Mr. Klaw!" began Coram, excitedly.
"Ssh!" Moris Klaw raised his hand. "No ex-
citement. It is noisy and a tax upon the nerves.
242
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
Second-you are wrong, because presently that hid-
den one will come into the Egyptian Room!"
"How? How in Heaven's name is he going to
get in?"
"We shall see."
Utterly mystified, Coram and I stared at Moris
Klaw, for we stood one on either side of him; but
he merely wagged his finger enjoining us to silence,
and silent perforce we became.
The view was a cramped one, and standing there
looking out at the clear summer night, I for one
grew very weary of the business. But I was sus-
tained by the anticipation that the mystery of the
headless mummies was about to come to a climax.
I felt very sorry for poor Grimsby, cramped in the
corner of the Egyptian Room, for I knew him to be
even more hopelessly in the dark respecting the
purpose of these manœuvres than I was myself.
vain I racked my brain in quest of the link which
united the ancient "Book of the Lamps" with the
singular case which had brought us there that night.
Coram began to fidget, and I knew intuitively
that he was about to speak.
"Ssh!" whispered Moris Klaw.
In
A beam of light shone out beneath us, across the
Egyptian Room!
I concluded that something had attracted the
attention of Grimsby. I leaned forward in tense
expectancy, and Coram was keenly excited.
THE HEADLESS MUMMIES
243
The beam of light moved; it shone upon the door
of the very case in the corner of which Grimsby was
hiding, but upon the nearer end, fully upon the face
of a mummy.
A small figure was dimly discernible, now, the
figure of the man who carried the light. Cautiously
he crossed the room. Evidently he held the key of
the wall case, for in an instant he had swung the door
back and was hauling the mummy on to the floor.
Then out upon the midnight visitor leapt Grimsby.
The light was extinguished-and Moris Klaw, draw-
ing back from the window, seized Coram by the arm,
crying, "The key of the door! The key of the
door!"
We were down and into the Egyptian Room in
less than half a minute. Coram switched on all the
lights; and there with his back to the open door
of the wall case, handcuffed and wild-eyed, was-
Mr. Mark Pettigrew!
Coram's face was a study-for the famous archæo-
logist whom we now saw manacled before us was a
trustee of the Menzies Museum!
"Mr. Pettigrew!" he said, hoarsely. "Mr. Petti-
grew! there must be some mistake-
"There is no mistake, my good sir," rumbled
Moris Klaw. "Look, he has with him a sharp knife
to cut off the head of the priest!"
It was true. An open knife lay upon the floor
beside the fallen mummy!
244
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
Grimsby was breathing very heavily and looking
in rather a startled way at his captive, who seemed
unable to realize what had happened. Coram cleared
his throat nervously. It was one of the strangest
scenes in which I had ever participated.
"Mr. Pettigrew," he began, "it is incomprehensi-
ble to me-
99
"I will make you to comprehend," interrupted
Moris Klaw. "You ask"-he raised a long finger-
'why should Mr. Pettigrew cut off the head of his
own mummy? I answer for the same reason that
he cut off the head of the one at Sotheby's. You ask
why did he cut off the head of the one at Sotheby's?
I answer for the same reason that he cut off the head
of the one at my house, and for the same reason that
he came to cut off the head of this one! What is
he looking for? He is looking for the 'Book of the
Lamps'!" He paused, gazing around upon us.
Probably, excepting the prisoner, I alone amongst
his listeners understood what he meant.
"I have related to Mr. Searles," he continued,
"some of the history of that book. It contained
the ritual of the ancient Egyptian ceremonial magic.
It was priceless; it gave its possessors a power above
the power of kings! And when the line of Pankhaur
became extinct it vanished. Where did it go? Ac-
cording to a very rare record-of which there are
only two copies in existence-one of them in my
possession and one in Mr. Pettigrew's!-it was hidden
THE HEADLESS MUMMIES
245
in the skull of the mummy of a priest or priestess of the
temple!"
Pettigrew was staring at him like a man fascinated.
"Mr. Pettigrew had only recently acquired that
valuable manuscript work in which the fact is
recorded; and being an enthusiast, gentlemen"-he
spread wide his hands continentally"-all we poor
collectors are enthusiasts-he set to work upon the
first available mummy of a priest of that temple.
It was his own. The skull did not contain the
priceless papyrus! But all these mummies are
historic; there are only five in Europe."
"Five?" blurted Pettigrew.
"Five," replied Klaw; "you thought there were
only four, eh? But as a blind you called in the
police and showed them how your mummy had
been mutilated. It was good. It was clever. No
one suspected you of the outrages after that-no
one but the old fool who knew that you had secured
the second copy of that valuable work of guidance!
"So you did not hesitate to use the keys you had
procured in your capacity as trustee to gain access
to this fourth mummy here." He turned to Grimsby
and Coram. "Gentlemen," he said, "there will be
no prosecution. The fever of research is a disease;
never a crime."
"I agree," said Coram, "most certainly there must
be no prosecution; no scandal. Mr. Pettigrew, I
am very, very sorry for this."
246
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
Grimsby, with a rather wry face, removed the
handcuffs. A singular expression proclaimed itself
upon Pettigrew's shrivelled countenance.
"The thing I'm most sorry for," he said, dryly,
but with the true fever of research burning in his
eyes, "if you will excuse me saying it, Coram, for
I'm very deeply indebted to you-is that I can't
cut off the head of this fourth mummy!"
Mr. Mark Pettigrew was a singularly purposeful
and rudely truculent man.
"It would be useless," rumbled Moris Klaw. "I
found the fifth mummy in Egypt two years ago!
And behold" he swept his hand picturesquely
through the air-"I beheaded him!"
"What!" screamed Pettigrew, and leapt upon
Klaw with blazing eyes.
"Ah," rumbled Klaw, massive and unruffled, "that
is the question-what? And I shall not tell you!"
From his pocket he took out the scent spray and
squirted verbena into the face of Mr. Pettigrew.
NINTH EPISODE
CASE OF THE HAUNTING OF GRANGE
I
LARGE lamp burned in the centre of the
table; a red-shaded candle stood close by
A
each diner; and the soft light made a brave
enough show upon the snowy napery and spotless
silver, but dispersed nothing of the gloom about us.
The table was a lighted oasis in the desert of the
huge apartment. One could barely pick out the suits
of armour and trophies which hung from distant pan-
elled walls, and I started repeatedly when the butler
appeared, silent, at my elbow.
Of the party of five, four were men-three of them
(for I venture to include myself) neatly groomed and
dressed with care in conventional dinner fashion.
The fourth was a heavy figure in a dress coat with
broad satin lapels such as I have seen, I think, in
pictures of Victorian celebrities. I have no doubt,
judging from its shiny appearance, that it was the
workmanship of a Victorian tailor. The vest was
cut high and also boasted lapels; the trousers, though
at present they were concealed beneath the table,
247
248
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
belonged to a different suit, possibly a mourning
suit, and to a different sartorial epoch.
The woman, young, dark, and exceedingly pretty,
wore a gown of shimmering amber, cut with Parisian
daring. Her beautiful eyes were more often lowered
than raised, for Sir James Leyland, our host, was
unable to conceal his admiration; his face, tanned
by his life in the Bush, was often turned to her.
Clement Leyland, the baronet's cousin, bore a strik-
ing resemblance to Sir James, but entirely lacked the
latter's breezy manner. I set him down for a man
who thought much and said little.
However, conversation could not well flag at a
board boasting the presence of such a genial colonial
as Sir James and such a storehouse of anecdotal
oddities as Moris Klaw. Mr. Leyland and myself,
then, for the most part practised the difficult art of
listening; for Isis Klaw, I learned, could talk almost
as entertainingly as her father.
"I am so glad," said Moris Klaw, and his voice
rumbled thunderously about the room, "that I have
this opportunity to visit Grange."
"It certainly has great historic interest," agreed
Sir James. "I had never anticipated inheriting the
grand old place, much less the title. My uncle's
early death, unmarried, very considerably altered my
prospects; I became a landed proprietor who might
otherwise have become a 'Murrumbidgee whaler'!"
THE HAUNTING OF GRANGE
249
He laughed, light-heartedly, glancing at Isis Klaw,
and from her to his cousin.
"Clem had everything in apple-pie order for me,"
he added, "including the family goblin!"
"Ah! that family goblin!" rumbled Moris Klaw.
"It is him I am after, that goblin!"
The history of Grange, in fact, was directly re-
sponsible for Moris Klaw's presence that night. An
odd little book, "Psychic Angles," had recently at-
tracted considerable attention among students of the
occult, and had proved equally interesting to the
general public. It dealt with the subject of ghosts
from quite a new standpoint, and incidentally re-
vealed its anonymous author as one conversant ap-
parently with the history of every haunted house
in Europe. Few knew that the curio-dealer of
Wapping was the author, but as Grange was dealt
with in "Psychic Angles," amongst a number of other
haunted homes of England, a letter from Sir James
Leyland, forwarded by the publisher, had invited
the author to investigate the latest developments of
the Leyland family ghost.
I had had the privilege to be associated with Moris
Klaw in another case of apparent haunting-that
which I have dealt with in an earlier paper: the
haunting of The Grove. He had courteously invited
me, then, to assist him (his own expression) in the
inquiry at Grange. I welcomed the opportunity,
250
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
for I was anxious to include in my annals at least
one other case of the apparent occult.
"We shall without delay," continued the eccentric
investigator, "endeavour to meet him face to face-
this disturber of the peace. Sir James, it is with
the phenomena you call ghosts the same as with
valuable relics, with jewels, with mummies-ah, those
mummies!-with beautiful women!"
"To liken a beautiful woman to a relic," said Sir
James, "would be well"-he glanced at Isis-
"hardly complimentary!"
"It would be true!" Moris Klaw assured him,
impressively. "Nature, that mystic process of
reproduction, wastes not its models. Sir James, all
beauty is duplicated. Look at my daughter, Isis."
Sir James readily obeyed. "You see her, yes?
And what do you see?"
Isis lowered her eyes, but, frankly, I was unable to
perceive any evidence of embarrassment in this
singularly self-possessed girl.
"Perhaps," resumed her father, "I could tell you
what you see; but I will only tell you what it is you
may see. You may see a beauty of your Regency or
a favourite of your Charles; the daughter of a Viking,
an ancient British princess; the slave of a Cæsar,
the dancer of a Pharaoh!”
"You believe in reincarnation?" suggested Cle-
ment Leyland, quietly.
"Yes, certainly, why not, of course!" rumbled
THE HAUNTING OF GRANGE
251
Moris Klaw. "But I do not speak of it now, not I;
I speak of Nature's reproduction; I tell you how
Nature wastes nothing which is beautiful. What has
the soul to do with the body? I tell you how the
reproduction goes on and on until the mould, the
plate, the die, has perished! So is it with ghosts."
You write me that your goblin has learned some new
tricks. I answer, your goblin can never learn new
tricks; I answer, this is not he, it is another goblin!
Nature is conservative with her goblins as with her
beautiful women; she does not disfigure the old
model with alterations. What! Chop them about?
Never! she makes new ones."
Clement Leyland smiled discreetly, but Sir James
was evidently interested.
"Of course I've read 'Psychic Angles,' Mr. Klaw,"
he said; "consequently, your novel theories do not
altogether surprise me. I gather your meaning to
be this: a haunted house is haunted in exactly the
same way generation after generation? Any new
development points to the presence of a new force or
intelligence?"
"It is exactly quite so,” Moris Klaw nodded, sym-
pathetically. "You have the receptive mind, Sir
James; you should take up ghosts; they would like
you. There is a scientific future for the sympathetic
ghost-hunter, for I will whisper it-these poor
ghosts are sometimes so glad to be hunted! It is a
lonely life, that of a ghost!"
252
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
"The Grange ghost," Sir James assured him, “is
a most gregarious animal. He doesn't go in for
lonely groanings in the chapel or anything of that
kind; he drops into the billiard room frequently,
he's often to be met with right here in the dining
room, and of late he's been sleeping with me regu-
larly!"
"So I hear," rumbled Moris Klaw; "so I hear.
It is quaint, yes; proceed, my friend."
Isis Klaw sat with her big eyes fixed upon Sir
James, as he continued:
"The traditional ghost of Grange was a gray monk
who, on certain nights-I forget the exact dates-
came out from the chapel beyond the orchard carry-
ing a long staff, walked up to a buttress of the west
wall, and disappeared at the point where formerly
there was a private entrance. In fact, there used
to be a secret stair opening at that point and com-
municating with a room built by a remote Leyland
of the eighth Henry's time-a notorious roué. The
last Leyland to use the room was Sir Francis, an
intimate of Charles II. The next heir had the
wing rebuilt, and the ancient door walled up.'
99
"Yes, yes," said Moris Klaw. "I know it all, but
you tell it well. This is a most interesting house,
this Grange. I have recorded him, the gray monk,
and I learn with surprise how another spook comes
poaching on his preserves! Tell us now of these new
developments, Sir James."
THE HAUNTING OF GRANGE
253
Sir James cleared his throat and glanced about
the table.
"Please smoke," said Isis; "because I should like
to smoke, too!"
"Yes, yes!" agreed Moris Klaw. "Remain, my
child, we will all remain; do not let us move an inch.
This banqueting hall is loaded with psychic impres-
sions. Let us smoke and concentrate our minds
upon the problem."
Coffee and liqueurs were placed upon the table
and cigarettes lighted. In deference to the presence
of Isis, I suppose, no cigars were smoked; but the
girl lighted an Egyptian cigarette proffered by Sir
James with the insouciance of an old devotee of my
Lady Nicotine. The butler having made his final
departure, we were left-a lonely company in our
lighted oasis-amid the shadow desert of that huge
and ghostly apartment.
"All sorts of singular things have happened,"
began Sir James, "since my return from Australia.
Of course, I cannot say if these are recent develop-
ments, because my uncle, for seven or eight years
before his death, resided entirely in London, and
Grange was in charge of the housekeeper. It is
notorious, is it not, that housekeepers and such
worthy ladies never by any chance detect anything
unseemly in family establishments with which they
are associated? Anyway, when I was dug up out
of the Bush, and all the formalities were through,
'254
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
good old Clement here set about putting things to
rights for me, and I arrived to find Grange a perfect
picture from floor to roof. New servants engaged,
too, though the housekeeper and the butler, who
have been in the family for years, remained, of course,
with some other old servants. As I have said,
everything was in apple-pie order."
"Including the ghost!" interpolated his cousin,
laughing.
"That's the trouble," said Sir James, banging his
fist upon the table; "the very first night I dined in
this room there was a most uncanny manifestation.
Clement and I were sitting here at this very table;
we had dined-not unwisely, don't think that—and
were just smoking and chatting, when—”
He ceased abruptly; in fact, the effect was similar
to that which would have resulted had a solid door
suddenly been closed upon the speaker. But the
stark silence which ensued was instantly interrupted.
My blood seemed to freeze in my veins; a horrid,
supernatural dread held me fast in my chair. For,
echoing hollowly around and about the huge, ancient
apartment, rolled, booming, a peal of demoniacal
laughter! From whence it proceeded I was wholly
unable to imagine. It seemed to be all about, above
us, and beneath us. It was mad, devilish, a hell-
sound impossible to describe. It rose, it fell, it rose
again—and ceased abruptly.
"My God!" I whispered. "What was it?"
THE HAUNTING OF GRANGE 255
II
In the silence that followed the ghostly disturbance
we sat around the table listening. Sir James was
the first to speak.
"A demonstration, Mr. Klaw!" he said. "This
sort of thing happens every night!"
"Ah!" rumbled Moris Klaw, "every night, eh?
That laughing? You have investigated-yes-no?"
"I tried to investigate," explained the baronet,
"but quite frankly I didn't know where to begin.”
We were all recovering our composure somewhat,
I think.
"You hear that laughter nowhere but in this
room?" asked Klaw.
"I have always heard it when we have been seated
at this table," was the reply; "at no other time, but
it can be heard clearly beyond the room. The
servants have heard it. Excepting the housekeeper
and the butler, they are leaving almost immediately."
"Ah! canaille!" grunted Moris Klaw; "fear-
pigs! It is always so, these servants. So you have
not located the one that laughs, no?"
"No," answered Sir James; "and he doesn't stop
at laughing-does he, Clem?"
Clement Leyland shook his head. He looked
even paler than usual, I thought, and the uncanny
incident seemed to have disturbed him greatly.
"What else?" rumbled Moris Klaw. "The gray
256
1
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
monk is forgetting his manners. He becomes rude,
eh-that gray monk?"
"The house has practically become uninhabitable,"
said the baronet, bitterly. "None of the usual phe-
nomena are missing. We have slamming doors,
phantom footsteps, and, if the servants are to be
believed, half the forces of hell loose here at night!"
"But your own experiences?" interrupted Klaw.
"My own experiences in brief amount to this: I
rarely sit at this table at night without hearing that
beastly laughter, at least once. I never go into the
billiard room, which opens out under the gallery
yonder, without feeling a cold wind blowing upon
my face or head, even in perfectly still weather, or
with all the windows closed. To the left of the
billiard room, and opening out of it, is a third centre
of these disturbances. It's the gun room, and guns
have been fired there in the night, with the door
locked, on no fewer than five occasions!"
Moris Klaw, from a tail pocket of his coat, pro-
duced a cylindrical scent spray and squirted verbena
upon his high yellow forehead.
"It grows exciting, this," he said. "I require
the cool brain."
"Finally," added Sir James, "the only other point
worth mentioning is the ghostly voice which regularly
wakes me from my sleep at night."
"A voice," rumbled Klaw; "what voice, and what
does it say, that voice?"
THE HAUNTING OF GRANGE
257
"I won't repeat what it says!" replied the baronet,
glancing at Isis; "but it offers obscene suggestions
or that is the impression I have of it—a low, filthy
mumbling; if you can follow me, the voice of some-
thing dead and infinitely evil.”
Moris Klaw stood up.
"This intelligence," he rumbled, “a living or a
dead one, has thoughts then, and thoughts, Sir
James, are things. I shall sleep in one of the centres
of its activity to-night, perhaps here, perhaps in the
billiard room or the gun room. Isis, my child, bring
for me my odically sterilized pillows. This is a
charming case and worthy of the subtle method."
He placed his hands upon the shoulders of Sir
James Leyland, who stood facing him.
"Evil thoughts live, Sir James," he said. "I
cannot explain to you how hard it is to slay them.
Few good thoughts survive; but such an ancient
abode as this"-he waved his long hands charac-
teristically about him-"is peopled with thought-
forms surviving from the dark ages. I have opened
the inner eye, my friend. Mercifully, perhaps, the
inner eye is closed in most of us; in some it is blind.
But I have opened that eye and trained it. As I
sleep" he lowered his voice oddly-"those thought
things come to me. It is an uncomfortable gift,
yes; for here in Grange I shall find myself to-night
in evil company. Murders long forgotten will be
accomplished again before that inner eye of mine!
258
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
-
I shall swim in blood! Assassins will come stealing
to me, murdered ones will scream in my ears, the
secret knife will flash, the honest ax do its deadly
work; for in the moment of such deeds two im-
perishable thought-forms are created: the thought-
form of the slayer, strong to survive, because a blood-
lustful thought, a revengeful thought; and the
thought of the slain, likewise a long-surviving
thought because a thought of wildest despair, a final
massing of the mental forces greater than any
generally possible in life, upon that last awful
grievance.
He paused, looking around him.
"From the phantom company," he said, "I must
pick out that one whose thought is of laughter, of
firing guns, and of evil whisperings. What a task!
Wondrous is the science of the mental negative!"
The meeting broke up, then, and Isis Klaw, having
brought from a large case, which formed part of her
father's luggage, two huge red cushions, bade us
good-night and retired to her own room. Moris
Klaw, with a cushion swinging in each hand, went
shuffling ungainly from room to room like some
strange animal seeking a lair.
"Do I understand," Clement Leyland whispered to
me, "that your friend proposes to sleep down here?"
"Yes," I replied, smiling at his evident wonder-
ment; "such is his method of investigation, eccentric,
but effective."
THE HAUNTING OF GRANGE
259
"It is really effective, then? The experiences
given in 'Psychic Angles' are not fabulous?"
"In no way. Moris Klaw is a very remarkable
I have yet to meet the mystery which is
beyond him."
man.
Moris Klaw's rumbling voice, which frequently
reminded me of the rolling of casks in a distant
cellar, broke in upon our conversation:
"Here is the ideal spot; here upon this settee by
the door of the gun room I am in the centre of these
psychic storms which nightly arise in Grange."
""
"If you are determined to remain here, Mr. Klaw,'
said Sir James, "I shall not endeavour to dissuade
you, of course; but I should prefer to see you turn
into more comfortable quarters."
"No, no," was the reply; "it is here I shall lay
down my old head, it is here I shall lie and wait for
him, the one who laughs.'
Accordingly, since the hour grew late, we left this
novel ghost-hunter stretched out upon the settee in
the billiard room; and as I knew his objection to any
disturbance, I suggested to Sir James that we should
retire out of earshot for a final smoke ere seeking our
separate apartments.
We sat chatting for close upon an hour, I suppose.
Then Clement Leyland left us, saying that he had had
a heavy day.
"Clement's been working real hard," the baronet
confided to me. "In the circumstances, as I think
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THE DREAM DETECTIVE
I told you, I have decided to abandon Grange, and
we are having the old Friars House, a mile from here,
but on part of the estate, restored. It hasn't been
inhabited for about three generations, and it's very
much older than Grange; part of it dates back to
King John. Perhaps I can get servants to stop
there, though, and it's quite impossible to keep up
Grange without a staff. Clement has been super-
intending the work over there all day; he's one of
the best."
A few moments later we parted for the night. I
left Sir James at the door of his room, which had
formerly opened off the balcony overlooking the
banqueting hall. That door was now walled up,
however, and the entrance was from the corridor
beyond. The room allotted to me was upon the
opposite side of the same corridor and farther to
the north.
I felt particularly unlike sleep. The extremely
modern furniture of my room could not rob the walls,
with their small square panelling, of the air of hoary
antiquity which was theirs. The one window, deep
set and overlooking an extensive orchard, was such
as might have formed the focus for cavalierly glance,
was such as might have framed the head of a roman-
tic maid of Stuart days. And with it all was that
gloomy air that had a more remote antiquity, that
harked back to darker times than those of the Merry
Monarch: the air of ghostly evil, the cloud from which
THE HAUNTING OF GRANGE
261
proceeded the devilish laughter, the obscene whisper-
ings.
Where the shadows of the trees lay beneath me
on the turf, I could fancy a gray cowled figure flitting
across the lighted patches and lurking, evilly watch-
ing, amid the pools of darkness. Sleep was im-
possible. Moris Klaw, to whom such fears as mine
were utterly unknown, might repose, nay, was actu-
ally reposing, in the very vortex of this psychical
storm; but I was otherwise constituted. I had been
with him in many cases of dark enough evil-doing,
but this purely ghostly menace was something that
sapped my courage.
Grange stood upon rather high ground, and in a
northeasterly direction, peeping out from the trees
of a wooded slope, showed a gray tower almost like
a giant monkish figure under the moon. I watched
it with a vague interest. It was Friars House, to
which the baronet projected retreat from the haunted
Grange. Lighting my pipe, I leaned from the win-
dow, idly watching that ancient tower and wonder-
ing if more evil deeds had taken place within it-long
as it had stood there amid the trees-than those
which had left their ghostly mark upon Grange.
The night was very beautiful and very still. Not
the slightest sound could I detect within or without
the house. How long I had lounged there in this
half-dreamy, but vaguely fearful, mood I cannot say,
but I was aroused by a tremendous outcry. Loud
262
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
it broke in upon the silence of the night, broke in
on my mood with nerve-racking effect. My pipe
dropped to the floor, and taking one step across
the room I stood there, rooted to the spot with
indefinable horror.
"Father!" it came in a piercing scream, and
again: "Father! O God! save him! save him!"
III
The voice was that of Isis Klaw!
Whenever I accompanied her father upon any of
his inquiries I came armed, and now, with a maga-
zine pistol held in my hand, I leapt out into the
corridor and turned toward the stair.
A door
slammed open in front of me and Sir James Leyland
also came running out, pulling on his dressing gown
as he ran. One quick glance he gave me; his face was
very pale; and together we went racing down the
stairs into the hall patched with ghostly moonlight.
"You heard it?" he breathed, hoarsely. "It was
Miss Klaw! What in God's name has happened?
Where is she?"
But even as he asked the question, and as we
pressed on into the billiard room, it was answered.
For Isis Klaw, with a dressing gown thrown over
her night apparel, was kneeling beside the settee
upon which her father lay.
"What has happened? What has happened?"
THE HAUNTING OF GRANGE
263
groaned Sir James. Then, as we approached to-
gether: "Mr. Klaw! Mr. Klaw!" he cried.
“All right, my friend!" came the rumbling voice,
and to my inestimable relief Moris Klaw sat up and
looked around upon us, adjusting his pince-nez to
the bridge of his massive nose: "I live! It has
saved me, the Science of the Mind!"
Isis Klaw bowed her head upon the red cushion,
and I saw that she was trembling violently. It was
the first time I had known her to lose her regal com-
posure, and, utterly mystified, I wondered what awful
danger had threatened Moris Klaw.
"Thank Heaven for that!" said the baronet,
earnestly.
Approaching footsteps sounded now, and a group
of frightened servants, headed by the butler, ap-
peared at the door of the billiard room. Through
them came pressing Mr. Clement Leyland. His
face was ghastly, showing a startling white against
the dull red of the dressing gown he wore.
"James!" he said, huskily. "James! that awful
screaming! What was it? What has occurred?"
I knew that he slept in the west wing and that he
must have been unable to distinguish the words
which Isis had cried. Thus heard, the shrill scream
must have sounded even more terrifying.
Moris Klaw raised his hand protestingly.
"No fuss, dear friends," he implored, in rumbling
264
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
accents, "no wonderings and botherings. They so
disturb the nerves. Let us be calm, let us be peace-
ful.” He laid his hand upon the head of the girl
who knelt beside him. "Isis, my child, what a
delicate instrument is the psychic perception! You
knew it, the danger to your poor old father, to the
poor old fool who lies here waiting to be slaughtered'
Almost you knew it before I knew it myself!”
"For God's sake, Mr. Klaw," said Clement Ley-
land, shakily, "what has happened? Who, or what,
came to you here? What occasioned Miss Klaw's
terror?"
"My friend,” replied Klaw, "you ask me conun-
drum-riddles. Some dreadful thing haunts this
Grange, some deadly thing. The man has not lived
who has not tasted fear, and I, the old foolish,
have lived indeed to-night! I fail, my friend. There
is some evil intelligence ruling this Grange, which I
cannot capture upon my negative"-he tapped his
brow characteristically-"to attempt it would be to
die. It is too powerful for me. Grange is unclean,
Sir James. You will leave Grange without delay;
it is I, the old experienced who knows, that warns
you. Fly from Grange. Take up your residence
to-morrow at Friars House!"
No further explanation would he vouchsafe.
"I am defeated, my friends!" he declared, shrug-
ging, resignedly.
Accordingly, Isis, her beautiful face deathly pale
THE HAUNTING OF GRANGE
265
and her great eyes feverishly bright, returned to her
room. She covered her face with her hands as she
passed to the door. Moris Klaw accepted the use of
an apartment next to mine, and we all sought our
couches again in states of varying perturbation.
That there was some profound mystery underlying
these happenings of the night was evident to me.
Moris Klaw and Isis Klaw were keeping something
back. They shared some dark secret and guarded
it jealously; but with what motive they acted in
this fashion was a problem that defied my efforts at
solution.
The morning came and brought a haggard com-
pany to the breakfast table. Few, if any, beneath
the roof of Grange, had known sleep that night.
although, so far as I could gather, there had been no
manifestations of any kind.
Moris Klaw talked incessantly about the fauna of
the Sahara Desert, and so monopolized the conver-
sation with his queer anecdotes of snakes and scor-
pions that no other topic found entrance.
After breakfast the whole party, in Sir James's car,
drove over to Friars House; and despite the up-to-
date furniture and upholstery, I found it a very
gloomy residence. Stripped of its ghostly atmos-
phere, Grange had been quite a charming seat for
any man; but this dungeonesque place, with its
lichened tower that had dominated the valley when
John signed Magna Charta, with its massive walls
266
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
and arrow-slit windows, its eccentrically designed
apartments and crypt-like smell, was altogether too
archaic to be comfortable.
Moris Klaw, standing in the room which had been
fitted up as a library, removed his flat-topped brown
bowler and fumbled for his scent spray.
"This place," he said, "smells abominably of dead
abbots!"
He squirted verbena upon himself and upon Isis.
He replaced the scent spray in the lining of the
hat, and was about to replace the hat on his head,
when he paused, staring straight up at the ceiling
reflectively.
"My notes!" he said, abruptly; "I have left
those notes in my valise. I must have them. Curse
me, for an old foolish! Sir James, you will show
Isis this charming old tower in my absence? Do I
intrude? But I would borrow the car and return to
Grange for my notes!"
"Not a bit!" replied the baronet, readily. "Clem-
ent can go with you!"
"No, no! Certainly no! I could not think of
it! My old friend, Mr. Searles, may come if he so
likes; if not, I go alone."
Naturally, I agreed to accompany him; and, leav-
ing the others at the ancient gateway, we set off in
Sir James's car back to Grange. Down into the
valley we swept and up the slope to Grange, Moris
Klaw sitting muttering in his beard, but offering no
THE HAUNTING OF GRANGE
267
remark and patently desirous to avoid conversa-
tion.
"Come, my friend," he said, as the car drew up
before the house, "and I will show you what my
mental negative recorded to me last night, just
before the great danger came.'
""
He led the way into the billiard room, curtly direct-
ing the butler to leave us. When we were alone--
"You will note something," he rumbled, swinging
his arm vaguely around in the direction of the
banqueting hall. "What you will note is this: the
laughter-where is it heard? It is heard here, in
the gun room on my right, in the banquet room
before me. Great is the Science of the Mind! I will
now test my negative.'
99
I followed him with wondering gaze as he stepped
into the deep old-fashioned fireplace which formed
one of the quaintest features of the room. He bent
his tall figure to avoid striking his head upon the
stonework, and placed the historic brown bowler
upon one of the settles.
"Perhaps I cannot find it," came his rumbling
voice; "my negative was fogged by assassinations,
murderous sieges, candle-light duels, and other
thought-forms of the troubled past; but I may
triumph-I may triumph!"
He was standing on a settle with his head far up
the chimney, and presently a faint grating sound
proceeded from that sooty darkness.
268
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
"I have it!" he rumbled, triumphantly. "And
in my pocket reposes the electric lamp. I ascend;
you, my good friend, will follow."
True enough he scrambled upward and, to my
unspeakable amazement, disappeared in the chim
ney. Filled with great wonder I followed and saw
him standing in a recess high above my head, a recess
which he must have opened in some way unknown
to me. He extended a long arm and grasped my
hand in his.
"Up!" he cried, exerted his surprising strength,
and jerked me up beside him with as little effort as
though I had been a child.
He pressed the button of a torch which he held
and I saw that we stood upon an exceedingly steep
and narrow wooden stair.
"It is in the thickness of the wall between the
panellings," he whispered, solemnly; "a Jacobite
hiding place. Sir James knows nothing of it, for
has he not spent his life in the Bush?"
He mounted the stair.
"On the right," his voice came back to me, "the
gun room, the billiard room! On the left, the
banquet room. From here comes the laughter-
from here comes the danger."
Still he ascended and I followed. The narrow
stair terminated in a dusty box-like apartment no
more than six feet high by six feet square. Moris
Klaw, ducking his head grotesquely, stood there
THE HAUNTING OF GRANGE
269
shining the light about him. From the floor he took
up a square wooden case and waved to me to descend
again.
"No exit," he said; "no exit. Sir James's bed-
room is upon the farther side, but, as I had antici-
pated, there is no exit."
We returned the way we had come; clearly there
was no other. Beneath his caped coat Moris Klaw
jealously concealed the case which he had dis-
covered in the secret chamber. I was filled with
intense curiosity; but Moris Klaw, having gone to his
room, asking me to await him outside in the drive,
returned, ultimately, without the case, but carrying a
huge notebook, and intimated that he was prepared
to reënter the waiting car.
Behind the pebbles of his pince-nez his strange
eyes gleamed triumphantly.
"We triumph," he said. "The haunting of
Grange succumbs to the Science of the Mind!"
IV
We all had lunch at Friars House, but were by
no means a jovial party. Sir James seemed worried
and preoccupied, and Clement Leyland even more
reticent than usual. Moris Klaw talked, certainly,
but his conversation turned entirely upon the subject
of the Borgias, concerning which notorious family
he was possessed of a stock of most unsavoury
anecdote. So realistic were his gruesome stories,
270
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
}
delivered in that rumbling whisper, wholly impos-
sible to describe or imitate, that every mouthful of
food which I swallowed threatened to choke me.
Afterward we wandered idly about the beautiful
old grounds, which bore ineffaceable marks of monk-
ish cultivation. Sir James, who was walking ahead
with Moris Klaw and Isis, suddenly turned and
waited for me. I had been examining a sundial
with much interest, but I now walked on and joined
our host.
"Mr. Searles," he said, "may I press you to remain
here over the week-end?"
"That's very good of you," I replied. "I think
I could manage it, and I should enjoy the stay
immensely."
I concluded that Moris Klaw also was remaining,
and consequently was surprised when a short time
later he drew me aside into a rose-covered arbour
and announced that he was leaving by the four-
o'clock train.
"But I shall be back in the morning, Mr. Searles,"
he assured me, wagging his finger mysteriously; “I
shall be back in the morning!"
"And Miss Klaw?"
"She, too, goes by the four-o'clock train and will
not be returning for the present."
"I understand that Sir James is taking up his
residence here at Friars House from now onward?"
"It is so, my friend; he deserts Grange. The
THE HAUNTING OF GRANGE 271
servants come over here to-day. Is he not well
advised? Mr. Clement has all along recommended
that this shall be his residence. He was against it,
the idea of inhabiting Grange, from the first. He is
wise, that Mr. Clement. He has lived in these parts
so long. He knows that Grange is haunted, is
uninhabitable.”
Later, then, Moris Klaw and Isis took their de-
parture; and just as the car was about to drive off
my eccentric friend removed his brown bowler and
sprayed his bald brow with verbena. He bent to
me:
"Day and night," he whispered, huskily, “do not
lose sight of him, Sir James! Above all, allow him.
not to explore!"
With that the car drove off, and I stood looking
after it, wondering, utterly mystified. On the steps
behind me stood Clement Leyland and his cousin.
The latter's gaze followed the course of the car along
the picturesque winding road until it became lost
from view. I thought I heard him sigh.
Ensued an uneventful day and night. Life was
pleasant enough at Friars House, if a trifle dull; and
Sir James seemed unsettled, whilst his disquietude
was reflected in his cousin. The latter, now that his
active labours in preparing this new residence for
the baronet were checked, seemed a man at a loss
what to do with himself. His was one of those
quietly ardent temperaments, I divined, and idleness
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THE DREAM DETECTIVE
palled upon him. Apparently he had no profession,
and although I presumed that he had some residence
of his own in the neighbourhood, he, apparently, was
prepared indefinitely to prolong his stay at Friars
House. I think his companionship was welcome to
Sir James, for the latter was yet strange to the new
duties of a landed gentleman.
The next morning brought Moris Klaw, and I
learned with ever-growing surprise that he had made
arrangements to spend the following week beneath
the hospitable roof of Friars House.
I have nothing to record of interest up to the time
I left; but often during the ensuing six days the
problem of the haunting of Grange, and the mystery
of Moris Klaw's protracted visit to Friars House
came between me and my work. Then on the
Saturday morning arrived a telegram:
"Can you join us for week-end-car will meet
2:30. Wire reply. Best wishes.-LEYLAND."
I determined to accept the invitation; for respect-.
ing the nature of Moris Klaw's business at Friars
House and that he had some other motive than
ordinary in sojourning there I was persuaded-my
curiosity knew no bounds. Accordingly, I packed
my grip, and at about five o'clock on a delightful
afternoon found myself taking tea in a cloister-like
apartment of the former Friary.
THE HAUNTING OF GRANGE
273
"Grange," said Sir James, in answer to a question
of mine, "is shut up."
"It is shut, yes," rumbled Moris Klaw. "What
a pity! What a pity!"
In the course of the day occurred incidents which
I have since perceived to have been significant. I
will pass over them, however, and hasten to what I
may term the catastrophe of this very singular case.
Four of us sat down to dinner in an apartment
which clearly had been the ancient refectory of the
monks. Clement Leyland, who had arrived barely
in time to dress, looked haggard and worried. I
determined that he had some private troubles of his
own, and beneath his quiet geniality I thought I
could detect a sort of brooding gloom. His pale,
clean-shaven face, so like yet so unlike that of his
cousin, was a mask that ill repaid study; yet I knew
that the real Clement Leyland was a stranger to me,
perhaps to all of us.
I was most anxious to learn if Moris Klaw had
divulged the secret of the hidden chamber at Grange
to Sir James; and I was unspeakably curious con-
cerning the box of which I had had but a glimpse
the box that he had found there. But he baffled my
curiosity at every point.
It
Have you experienced that sense of impending
calamity which sometimes heralds tragic things?
was with me that night, throughout dinner; and
afterward, when we entered the library and sat
274
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
over our cigars, it grew portentously. I felt that I
stood upon the brink of a precipice. And literally I
was not in great error. Moris Klaw, to the evident
discomfort of Sir James, brought the conversation
around to the subject of the haunting. I observed
him to glance at his watch, with a rather odd expres-
sion upon his vellum-hued face.
"Is it not singular," he said, "how poor spectres
are confined, like linnets, to their cages? They seem,
these spooks, never to roam. That laughing demon
of Grange-look at him. He remains in that empty,
desolate house; he-
""
There was a dreadful interruption.
Commencing with a sort of guttural rattle, out
upon the cloisteresque stillness burst a peal of wicked
laughter.
It rang throughout the room; it poured fear into
my every fibre. It died away-and was gone.
Sir James, clutching the leather-covered chair-
arms, looked like a man of stone. I was frankly
terrorized. Moris Klaw stood behind me, by a book-
case; him I could not see. But Clement Leyland's
face I can never forget. It was positively deathlike.
His eyes seemed starting from their sockets, and his
teeth chattered horribly.
"God in Heaven!" he whispered, brokenly.
"What is it? O God! What is it! Take it away-
take it away!"
Then Moris Klaw spoke, slowly:
THE HAUNTING OF GRANGE
275
"It is for you to take it away, Mr. Leyland!"
Clement Leyland rose from his seat; he swayed
like a drunken man, and there was madness in the
glaring eyes that he turned in Klaw's direction.
"You-you- " he gasped.
""
"I-I- rumbled Moris Klaw, sternly, and
took a step forward; "I have entered the Jacobite
hiding place at Grange, and there I found a box!
Ah! you glare! glare on, my friend! I returned that
box to where I found it; but first I examined its
contents! What! that demon laughter frightens
you! Then descend, Mr. Leyland, descend and bring
him out the one who laughs!"
Rigidly, Sir James sat in his chair; I, too, seemed
to be palsied. But at sight of the next happening
we both stood up. Moris Klaw stamped heavily
upon the oaken floor in a deep recess; then applied
his weight to a section of the seemingly solid stone
wall.
It turned, as on a pivot, revealing a dark cavity.
He stood there, a bizarre figure, pointing down into
the blackness.
"Descend, my friend!" he cried. "The one who
laughs is upon the seventh step!"
66
The seventh step!"
In a whisper the words came from Clement Ley-
land. A draft of damp, cavernous air blew into the
library out of the opening.
"Descend, my friend!"
276
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
Remorselessly, Moris Klaw repeated the words.
In the centre of the room, Clement Leyland, a
pitiable sight, stood staring-and hesitating. Sud-
denly his cousin spoke.
"Don't go, Clement!" he whispered.
The other turned to him, dazedly.
"Don't go down that place. But-O God! I un-
derstand at last, or partly.
Quit! I give
you half an hour!"
Sir James sank back into his chair and buried his
face in his hands; Moris Klaw never moved from
where he stood by the cavity. But Clement Leyland,
with bowed head, walked from the room.
In the silence that followed his going-
"Await me, gentlemen," rumbled Klaw; “I
descend for the laughter!"
He stepped into the opening.
"One," he counted, "two-three-four-five—”
his voice came up to us from the depths-"six !”
We heard him ascending. Walking into the
library he placed upon the table beside Sir James a
very large and up-to-date gramophone!
"The laughter!" he explained, simply. "That
night, my friends, when first I slept at Grange, I
secured, among a host of other dreadful negatives,
the negative of one who lurked in a secret hiding
place. I saw him come creeping from the chimney
corner, bearing a great mace which I recognized for
THE HAUNTING OF GRANGE
277
one that had hung in the hall! Almost, the Science
of the Mind betrayed me; for I mistook him for a
thought-form! But the mind of Isis is en rapport
with the mind of her poor old father. In her dreams
she saw my peril, and she it was who, screaming,
saved me!-saved me from the murderer with the
mace!"
Sir James made no sign. Moris Klaw continued:
"I gathered, then, that the one who sometimes
lurked in the Jacobite hiding place and who, some-
how, made the demon laughter, and the other
phenomena, sought one end. It was to cause you
to leave Grange and to live in Friars House! Be-
yond so far, my science could not show me. I
assisted, therefore, the project of the lurker; and
came myself, too, in order to watch, my friend, to
guard and to spy!
"His gramophone I found, examined, and replaced.
It had a clockwork attachment, very ingenious,
which both started and stopped it; there was little
or no scraping. To-night, from his room, unknown
to him, I removed the instrument from its case,
which lay hidden at the bottom of his trunk. Yes!
I stole his key! I am the old fox! Why did he
bring it here? I cannot reply. Perhaps he meant
again to use it; his future projects are dark to me,
but their object is all too light."
Sir James groaned.
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THE DREAM DETECTIVE
"Old Clem!" he whispered, "and how I trusted
him!"
"He did not quite believe in my science," resumed
Moris Klaw, "but he did not know that, hidden, I
slept almost beside him as he sat, planning, in this
very room! From his own bad mind I secured my
second negative; and it showed me the death trap
of some bad old son of Mother Church! At Grange
there was but the Jacobite hiding place, but here was
the devilry of feudal times! I returned to London.
Why? To learn if my suspicions were well founded.
Yes! You may or may not be aware; but if you
die childless, the wicked Clement inherits Grange!"
"I knew that," whispered Sir James.
"Ah! you knew? So. I returned to here, for,
even at that time, I suspected that your accidental
death was the object of removal! Then I secured it,
my second negative. Biding my time, I explored
that death-smelling place. Its wicked machinery
had been freshly oiled! Ah! he knew its secrets
well, the old house that he hoped to inherit!
"One night, all innocent, as you sat here, with
other guests, he would have blundered upon that
doorway! And you, the host, would have led the
search party! But I saw that he feared to move
whilst I remained, and so I played the ghost upon
him with his own spook!"
Sir James Leyland looked up. His bronzed face
was transformed with emotion.
THE HAUNTING OF GRANGE 279
"Mr. Klaw," he said, huskily, "why did you lay
so much emphasis upon the words, 'the seventh
step'?"
Moris Klaw shrugged, replying simply:
"Because there is no seventh step-only the mouth
of a well!"
I
TENTH EPISODE
CASE OF THE VEIL OF ISIS
I
HAVE made no attempt, in these chronicles,
to arrange the cases of my remarkable friend,
Moris Klaw, in sections. Yet, as has recently
been pointed out to me, they seem naturally to fall
into two orders. There were those in which he ap-
peared in the rôle of criminal investigator, and in
which he was usually associated with Inspector
Grimsby. There was another class of inquiry in
which the criminal element was lacking: mysteries
which never came under the notice of New Scotland
Yard.
Since Moris Klaw's methods were, if not super-
natural, at any rate supernormal, I have been asked
if he ever, to my knowledge, inquired into a case
which proved insusceptible of a natural explanation—
which fell strictly within the province of the occult.
To that I answer that I am aware of several; but
I have refrained from including them because readers
of these papers would be unlikely to appreciate the
nature of Klaw's investigations outside the sphere of
280
CASE OF THE VEIL OF ISIS
281
ordinary natural laws. Those who are curious upon
the point cannot do better than consult the remark-
able work by Moris Klaw entitled, "Psychic Angles."
But there was one case with which I found myself
concerned that I am disposed to include, for it fell
between the provinces of the natural and super-
natural in such a way that it might, with equal legiti-
macy, be included under either head. On the whole,
I am disposed to bracket it with the case of the head-
less mummies.
I will take leave to introduce you, then, to the
company which met at Otter Brearley's house one
night in August.
"This is most truly amazing," Moris Klaw was
saying; "and I am indebted to my good friend
Searles"-he inclined his sparsely covered head in
my direction-"for the opportunity to be one of you.
It is a séance? Yes and no. But there is a mummy
in it and those mummies are so instructive!"
He extracted the scent spray from his pocket and
refreshed his yellow brow with verbena.
"How to be regretted that my daughter is in
Paris," he continued, his rumbling voice echoing
queerly about the room. "She loves them like a
mother-those mummies! Ah, Mr. Brearley, this
will cement your great reputation!"
Otter Brearley shook his head.
"I am not yet prepared to make it public prop-
erty," he declared, slowly. "No one, outside the
282
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
present circle, knows of my discovery. I do not wish
it to go farther at present."
He glanced around the table, his prominent blue
eyes passing from myself to Moris Klaw and from
Klaw to the clean-cut dark face of Doctor Fairbank.
The latter, scarce heeding his host's last words, sat
watching how the shaded light played, tenderly, amid
the soft billows of Ailsa Brearley's wonderful hair.
"Shall you make it the subject of a paper?" he
asked suddenly.
"My dear Doctor Fairbank!" rumbled Moris
Klaw, solemnly, "if you had been paying attention
to our good friend you would have heard him say
that he was not prepared, at present, to make public
his wonderful discovery."
"Sorry!" said Fairbank, turning to Brearley.
"But if it is not to be made public I don't altogether
follow the idea. What do you intend, Brearley?"
"I intend to experiment," answered Brearley.
"In what way?" I asked.
"In every way possible!"
Doctor Fairbank sat back in his chair and looked
thoughtful.
"Rather a comprehensive scheme?"
Brearley toyed with the bundle of notes under
his hand.
"I have already," he said, "exhaustively examined
seven of the possibilities; the eighth, and-I believe,
the last remains to be considered."
CASE OF THE VEIL OF ISIS
283
"Listen now to me, Mr. Brearley," said Moris
Klaw, wagging a long finger. "I am here, the old
curious, and find myself in delightful company. But
until this evening I know nothing of your work
except that I have read all your books. For me
you will be so good as to outline all the points-
yes?"
Otter Brearley mutely sought permission of the
company, and turned the leaves of his manuscript.
All men have an innate love of "talking shop," but
few can make such talk of general interest. Brearley
was an exception in this respect. He loved to talk
of Egypt, of the Pharaohs, of the temples of the
priesthood and its mysteries; but others loved to
hear him. That made all the difference.
"The discovery," he now began, "upon which I
have blundered-for pure accident, alone, led me to
it-assumes its great importance by reason of the
absolute mystery surrounding certain phases of
Egyptian worship. In the old days, Fairbank, you
will recall that it was my supreme ambition to learn
the secrets of Isis-worship as practised in early
Egyptian times. Save for impostors, and legitimate
imaginative writers, no one has yet lifted the veil
of Isis. That mystical ceremony by which a priest
was consecrated to the goddess, or made an arch
adept, was thought to be hopelessly lost, or, by others,
to be a myth devised by the priesthood to awe the
ignorant masses. In fact, we know little of the
284
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
entire religion but its outward form. Of that occult
lore so widely attributed to its votaries we know
nothing-absolutely nothing! By we, I mean stu-
dents in general. I, individually, have made a step,
if not a stride, into that holy of holies!"
"Mind
lightly.
you don't lose yourself!" said Fairbank,
But, professionally, he was displeased with Brear-
ley's drawn face and with the feverish brightness of
his eyes. So much was plain for all to see. In the
eyes of Ailsa Brearley, so like, yet so unlike, her
brother's, he read understanding of his displeasure,
I think, together with a pathetic appeal.
Brearley waved his long white hand carelessly.
"Rest assured of that, Doctor!" he replied.
"The labyrinth in which I find myself is intricate,
I readily admit; but all my steps have been well
considered. To return, Mr. Klaw"-addressing the
latter "I have secured the mummy of one of those
arch adepts! That he was one is proved by the
papyrus, presumably in his own writing, which lay
upon his breast! I unwrapped the mummy in
Egypt, where it now reposes; but the writing I
brought back with me and have recently deciphered.
A glance had showed me that it was not the usual
excerpts from the 'Book of the Dead.' Six months'
labour has proved it to be a detailed account of his
initiation into the inner mysteries!"
"Is such a papyrus unique?" I asked.
CASE OF THE VEIL OF ISIS
285
"Unique!" cried Moris Klaw. "Name of a little
blue man! It is priceless!"
"But why," I pursued, "should this priest, alone
among the many who must have been so initiated,
have left an account of the ceremony?"
"It was forbidden to divulge any part, any word,
of it, Searles!" said Brearley. "Departure from this
law was visited with fearful punishments in this
world and dire penalties in the next. Khamus, for
so this priest was named, well knew this. But some
reason which, I fear, can never be known, prompted
him to write the papyrus. It is probable, if not
certain, that no eye but his, and mine, has read what
is written there."
A silence of a few seconds followed his words.
"Yes," rumbled Klaw, presently; "it is un-
doubtedly a discovery of extraordinary importance,
this. You agree, my friend?"
I nodded.
"That's evident," I replied. "But I cannot
altogether get the hang of the ceremony itself,
Brearley. That is the point upon which I am par-
ticularly hazy."
"To read you the entire account in detail,"
Brearley resumed, "would occupy too long, and
would almost certainly confuse you. But the singu-
lar thing is this: Khamus distinctly asserts that the
goddess appeared to him. His writing is eminently
sane and reserved, and his account of the ceremony,
286
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
up to that point, highly interesting. Now, I have
tested the papyrus itself—though no possibility of
fraud is really admissible, and I have been able to
confirm many of the statements made therein. There
is only one point, it seems to me, remaining to be
settled."
"What is that?" I asked.
"Whether, as a result of the ceremony described,
Khamus did see Isis, or whether he merely imagined
he did!"
No one spoke for a moment. Then-
"My friend," said Moris Klaw, "I have a daughter
whom I have named Isis. Why did I name her Isis?
Mr. Brearley, you must know that that name has a
mystic and beautiful significance. But I will say
something I am glad that my daughter is not here!
Mr. Brearley-beware! Beware, I say: you play
with burning fires; my friend-beware!"
His words impressed us all immensely; for there
was something underlying them more portentous
than appeared upon the surface.
Fairbank stared at Brearley, hard.
"Do I understand," he began, quietly, "that you
admit the first possibility?"
"Certainly!" replied Brearley, with conviction.
"You are prepared to admit the existence, as an
entity, of Isis?"
"I am prepared to admit the existence of anything
until it can be proved not to exist!"
CASE OF THE VEIL OF ISIS
287
"Then, admitting the existence of Isis, what
should you assume it, or her, to be?"
"That is not a matter for presumption; it is a
matter for inquiry!"
The doctor glanced quickly toward Ailsa Brearley,
and her beautiful face was troubled.
"And this inquiry-how should you propose to
conduct it?"
"In surroundings as nearly as possible identical
with those described in the papyrus,” replied Brear-
ley, with growing excitement. "I should follow the
ceremony, word by word, as Khamus did!"
His eyes gleamed with pent-up enthusiasm. We
four listeners, again stricken silent, watched him;
and again it was the doctor who broke the silence.
"Is the ceremony spoken?"
"In the first half there is a long prayer, which is
chanted."
"But Egyptian, as a spoken language, is lost,
surely?"
"The exact pronunciation, or accent, is lost, of
course; but there are many who can speak it. I
can, for instance."
"And I," rumbled Moris Klaw, gloomily. "But
these special surroundings? Eh, my friend?"
"I have spent a year in searching for the necessary
things, as specified in the writing. At last my
collection is complete. Some of the things I have
had made, in the proper materials mentioned. These
288
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
materials, in some cases, have been exceedingly
difficult to procure. But now I have a complete
shrine of Isis fitted up! Khamus's initiation took
place in a small chamber of which he gives a concise
and detailed account. It is because my duplicate
of this chamber is ready that I have asked you to
meet me here to-night.'
"How long have you been at work upon this
inquiry?" said Fairbank.
He put the question as he might have put one
relating to a patient's symptoms; and this Brearley
detected in his tone, with sudden resentment.
"Fairbank," he said, huskily, "I believe you
think me insane!"
With his pale, drawn face and long, fair hair, he
certainly looked anything but normal, as he sat
with bright, staring eyes fixed upon the other across
the table.
"My dear chap," replied the doctor, soothingly,
"what a strange idea! My question was prompted
by a professional spirit, I will admit, for I thought
you had been sticking to this business too closely.
You are the last man in the world I should expect to
go mad, Brearley, but I should not care to answer for
your nerves if you don't give this Isis affair a rest.'
Brearley smiled, and waved his hand character-
istically. "Excuse me, Fairbank," he said, "but to
the average person my ideas do seem fantastic, I
CASE OF THE VEIL OF ISIS
289
know. That is what makes me so touchy on the
point, I suppose.'
99
"You are hoping for too much from what is at
most only a wild conjecture, Brearley. Your transla-
tion of the manuscript, alone, is a sufficiently notable
achievement. If I were in your place, I should leave
the occult business to the psychical societies. 'Let
the cobbler,' you know."
"It has gone too far for that," returned Brearley,
"and I must see it through, now."
"You are putting too much into it," said the doc-
tor, severely. "I want you to promise me that if
nothing results from your final experiment, you will
drop the whole inquiry."
Brearley frowned thoughtfully.
"Do you really think I am overdoing it?" he asked.
"Sure," was the answer. "Drop the whole thing
for a month or two.'
"That is impossible."
"Why?"
"Because the ceremony must take place upon the
first night of Panoi, the tenth month of the Sacred
Sothic year. This we take to correspond to the
April of the Julian year."
"Yes," rumbled Moris Klaw, "it is to-night!"
"Why!" I cried, "of course it is! Do you mean,
Brearley, that you are going to conduct your experi-
ment now?"
290
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
"Exactly," was the calm reply; "and I have asked
you all-Mr. Moris Klaw in particular-in order that
it may take place in the presence of competent wit-
nesses!"
Moris Klaw shook his massive head and pulled at
his scanty, toneless beard in a very significant
manner. All of us were vaguely startled, I think,
and through my mind the idea flashed that the first of
April was a date pathetically appropriate for such
an undertaking. Frankly, I was beginning to enter-
tain serious doubts regarding Brearley's sanity.
"I have given the servants a holiday," said the lat-
ter. "They are at a theatre in town; so there is no
possibility of the experiment being interrupted."
Something of his enthusiasm, unnatural though it
seemed, strangely enough began to communicate
itself to me.
"Come upstairs," he continued, “and I will ex-
plain what we all have to do."
Moris Klaw squirted verbena upon his brow.
II
"Doctor Fairbank!"
Fairbank, startled by the touch on his arm, stopped.
It was Ailsa Brearley who had dropped behind her
brother and now stood confronting us. In the dense
shadows of the corridor one could barely distinguish
her figure, but a stray beam of light touched one side
of her pure oval face and burnished her fair hair.
CASE OF THE VEIL OF ISIS
291
She wanted help, guidance. I had read it in her
eyes before. I was sorry that her sweet lips should
have that pathetic little droop.
"Doctor Fairbank! I have wanted to ask you
night do you think he
"
all
She could not speak the words, and stood biting
her lips, with eyes averted.
"Miss Brearley," he replied, "I do, certainly, fear
that your brother is liable to a nervous breakdown
at any moment. He has applied his mind too closely
to this inquiry, and has studiously surrounded him-
self with a morbid atmosphere."
Ailsa Brearley was now watching him, anxiously.
"Should we allow him to go on with it?"
"I fear any attempt to prevent him would prove
most detrimental, in his present condition."
"But-
99
There was clearly something else
which she wanted to say. "But, apart from that”—
she suddenly turned to Moris Klaw, instinctively it
almost seemed "Mr. Klaw-is this-ceremony
right?"
He peered at her through his pince-nez.
"In what way, my dear Miss Brearley-how
right?"
"Well-what I mean is-it amounts to idolatry,
does it not?"
I started. It was a point of view which had not,
hitherto, occurred to me.
"You probably understand the nature of the thing
292
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
better than we do, Miss Brearley," said Fairbank.
"Do you mean that it involves worship of Isis?"
"He has always avoided a direct answer when I
have asked him that," she said. "But it is only
reasonable to suppose that it does. His translation
of the writing I have never seen. But he has been
dieting in a most extraordinary manner for nearly a
year! Since the workmen completed it, no one but
himself has been inside the chamber which he has
had constructed at the end of his study; and he
spends hours and hours there every day-and every
night!"
Her anxiety became more evident with each word.
"You saw that he ate nothing at dinner," she
continued, "and taxed him with faddism. But it is
something more than that. Why has he sent the
servants away to-night? Oh, Doctor Fairbank! I
have a dreadful foreboding! I am so afraid!"
The light in her eyes, suddenly upturned to him
in the vague half-light, the tone in her voice, the
appeal in her attitude-were unmistakable. Fair-
bank had been abroad for three years, and I could
see that between these two was an undeclared love,
and almost I felt that I intruded. Moris Klaw
looked away for a moment, too. Then-
"My dear young lady," he rumbled, paternally,
"do not be afraid. I, the old know-all, so fortunately
am here! Perhaps there is danger—yes, I admit it;
there may be danger. But it is such danger as dwells
CASE OF THE VEIL OF ISIS
293
here"-he tapped his yellow brow—“it is a danger
of the mind. For thoughts are things, Miss Brearley
—that is where it lies, the peril—and thought things
can kill!"
"Ailsa! Fairbank! Mr. Klaw!" came Brearley's
voice. "We have none too much time!"
"Proceed, my friends," rumbled Moris Klaw; “I
am with you." And, oddly enough, I was comforted
by his presence; so, it was evident, were the girl and
the doctor; for Moris Klaw, beneath that shabby,
ramshackle exterior, Moris Klaw, the Wapping curio
dealer, was a man of power-an intellectual ark of
refuge.
In the Egyptologist's study all appeared much the
same as when last I had set foot there. The cases
filled with vases, scarabs, tablets, weapons, and the
hundred-and-one relics of the great dead age with
which the student had surrounded himself; the sarco-
phagi; the frames of papyri-all seemed familiar.
Brearley sat at the huge writing table, littered, as
of yore, and in picturesque confusion.
"We must begin almost immediately!" he said, as
we entered.
A danger spot burned lividly upon either pale cheek.
His eyes gleamed brilliantly. The prolonged excite-
ment of his strange experiment was burning the man
up. His nerve centres must be taxed abnormally, I
knew.
Brearley glanced at his watch.
294
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
66
"I must be very brief," he explained, hurriedly,
'as it is vitally important that I commence in time.
Beyond the bookcase, there, you will see that a part
of the room has been walled off."
We looked in the direction indicated. Although
it was not noticeable at first glance I now saw that
the apartment was, indeed, smaller than formerly.
The usual books covered the new wall, giving it
much the same aspect as the old; but, where hitherto
there had been nothing but shelves, a small, narrow
door of black wood now broke the imposing expanse
of faded volumes.
"In there," Brearley resumed, "is the Secret Place
described by Khamus!"
He placed his long, thin hand upon a yellow roll
that lay partly opened on the table.
"No one but myself may enter there until after
to-night, at any rate!" with a glance at Moris Klaw.
"To the most minute particular"-patting the pa-
pyrus-"it is equipped as Khamus describes. For
many months I have prepared myself, by fasting and
meditation, as he prepared! There was, as no
doubt you know, a widespread belief in ancient times
that for any but the chosen to look upon the goddess
was death. As I admit the possibility of Isis exist-
ing, I must also admit the possibility of this belief
being true the more so as it is confirmed by Kha-
mus! Therefore none may enter with me."
"One moment, Mr. Brearley," interrupted Klaw;
CASE OF THE VEIL OF ISIS
295
"in what form does Khamus relate that the goddess
appeared?"
A cloud crossed Brearley's face.
"It is the one point upon which he is not clear,"
was the reply. "I do not know, in the least, what
to expect!"
"Go on!" I said, quickly. Although I seriously
doubted my poor friend's sanity, I began to find the
affair weirdly, uncannily fascinating.
Brearley continued:
"The ritual opens with a chant, which I may
broadly translate as 'The Hymn of Dedication.'
Its exact purport is not very clear to me. This hymn
is the only part of the ceremony in which I am as-
sisted. It is to be 'sung by a virgin beyond the
door.' That is, directly I have entered yonder it
must be sung out here. Ailsa has composed a sort of
chant to the words, which, I think, is the proper kind
of setting. Have you not, Ailsa?"
She bowed her graceful head, glancing, under her
lashes, toward Fairbank.
"She has learned the words-for, of course, it must
in Egyptian-____”
be sung
"But have no idea of their meaning," said his sister,
softly.
"That is unnecessary," he went on, quickly.
"After this, I want you all just to remain here in this
room. I am afraid you will have to sit in the dark!
Any sounds which you detect, please note. I will
296
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
not tell you what to expect, then imagination cannot
deceive you. I will be back in a moment."
With another hasty glance at his watch, he went
out in high excitement.
"Please," began Ailsa Brearley, the moment he
was gone, "do not think that because I assist him
I approve of this attempt! I think it is horrible!
But what am I to do? He is wrapped up in it! I
dare not try to check him!"
"We understand that," said Fairbank; "all of us.
Do as he desires. When he has made the attempt,
and failed-as, of course, he must do the folly of
the whole thing will become apparent to him. Do
not let it worry you, Miss Brearley. Your brother is
not the first man to succumb, temporarily, to the
glamour of the Unknown."
She shook her head sadly.
"It is an unpleasant farce," she said. "But
there is something more in it than that."
Her blue eyes were full of trouble.
"What do you mean, Miss Brearley?" asked Moris
Klaw.
"I hardly know, myself!" was the reply; "but for
the past two months an indefinable horror of some
kind has been growing upon me."
With a deep sigh, she turned to a tall case and
took from it a kind of slender harp. The instrument,
of which the frame, at any rate, was evidently an-
CASE OF THE VEIL OF ISIS
297
cient Egyptian work, rested upon a claw-shaped
pedestal.
"Do you play this? Yes? No?" inquired Moris
Klaw, with interest.
"Yes," she said, wearily. "It comes from the tomb
of a priestess of Isis and was played by her in the
temple. It is scaled differently from the modern
harp, but any one with a slight knowledge of the
ordinary harp, or even of the piano, can perform
upon it with ease.
It is sweet toned, but-creepy!"
She smiled slightly at her own expression, and I
was glad to see it.
Brearley returned.
He wore a single loose garment of white linen, and
thin sandals were upon his feet. Save for his long,
fair hair, he looked a true pagan priest, his eyes bright
with the fire of research that consumed him, his
features gaunt, ascetic.
Some ghost of his old humorous expression played,
momentarily, about his lips as he observed the as-
tonishment depicted upon our faces. But it was
gone almost in the moment of its coming.
"You wonder at me, no doubt," he said; "and at
times I have wondered at myself! Do not think me
fanatic. I scarcely hope for any result. But remem-
bering that the writing is authentic and that there
prevails, to this day, a widespread belief in the occult
wisdom of the Egyptians, why should not this prob-
298
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
lem in psychics receive the same attention from me
that one in physics would receive f om you, Fair-
bank?"
There was reason in his argument and in his man-
ner of advancing it. Fairbank glanced from Brearley
to the girl sitting with her white hands listlessly
caressing the harp strings. The silence of the
great empty house grew oppressive. Suppose the
ancients indeed possessed the strange lore attributed
to them? Suppose in those Dark Continents, the
Past and the Future, somewhere in the vast un-
known, there existed a power, a being, a spirit,
named by the Egyptians, Isis?
Those were my thoughts, when Moris Klaw said
suddenly:
"Mr. Brearley, it is not yet too late to turn back!
This sensitive plate" he tapped his forehead—
"warns me that some evil thought thing hovers about
us! You are about to give form to that thought
being. Be wise, Mr. Brearley-abandon your ex-
periment!"
His tone surprised everyone. Otter Brearley
looked at him with an odd expression and then
glanced at the watch upon the writing table.
"Mr. Klaw," he said, quietly, "I had hoped for a
different attitude in you; but if you really disapprove
of what I am about to attempt, I can only ask you
to withdraw; it is too late for further arguments.
""
"I remain, my friend! I spoke not for myself-
CASE OF THE VEIL OF ISIS
299
my life has been passed in this coping with evil
things; I spoke for others."
None of us entirely understood his words, but
Brearley went on, impatiently:
"Listen, please. I rely upon your coöperation.
From now onward I require absolute silence. What-
ver happens make no noise."
"I shall not be noisy, I, my friend!" rumbled
Moris Klaw. "I am the old silent; I watch and
wait until I am wanted."
He shrugged his shoulders and nodded, signifi-
cantly.
66
'Good!" said Brearley, and his voice quivered
with excitement; "then the experiment, the final
experiment, has begun!"
III
He suddenly extinguished the light.
Passing to a window, he looked up to the moon,
and, a moment later, lowered the blind. Dimly
visible in his white garment, he crossed the room.
He might be heard unfastening the door of the inner
chamber, and a faint, church-like smell crept to our
nostrils. The door closed.
Immediately the harp sounded.
Its tone was peculiar-uncomfortable. The strain
which Ailsa played was a mere repetition of three
notes. Then she began to sing.
Our eyes becoming more accustomed to the gloom,
300
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
we could vaguely discern her now; the soft outlines
of her figure; the white, ghost-like fingers straying
over the strings of the instrument. The music of
the chant was very monotonous, and weird to a
marked degree. The sound of that ancient tongue,
dead for many ages, chanted softly by Ailsa Brear-
ley's beautiful voice, was almost incredibly eerie. I
found myself gripped hard by a powerful sense of the
uncanny.
No other sound was audible. Throughout the ram-
bling old house intense silence prevailed. A slight
breeze stirred the cedars outside. Every now and
again it came like a series of broken sighs.
How long the chant lasted I cannot pretend to
state. It seemed interminable. I became aware of
a curious sense of physical loss. I found myself
drawn to high tension, as though the continuance
of the chant demanded a vast effort on my part.
Though I told myself that imagination was tricking
me, the music seemed to be draining my nerve force!
Ailsa's voice grew louder and clearer, until the
queer words, of unknown purport, rang out pas-
sionately, imperatively.
She ceased.
In the ensuing silence I could hear distinctly Moris
Klaw's heavy breathing. A compelling atmosphere
of mystery had grown up about us. Repel it how
we might, it was there-commanding acknowledg-
ment.
CASE OF THE VEIL OF ISIS
301
Fairbank, who sat nearest, was the first to see Ailsa
Brearley rise, unsteadily, and move in the direction
of the study door.
Something in her manner alarmed us all, and the
doctor quietly left his seat and followed her. As she
quitted the room, he came out behind her; and in the
better light on the landing, as he told us later, saw
that she was deathly pale.
"Miss Brearley!" he said.
She turned.
"Ssh!" she whispered, anxiously, "it is nothing-
Doctor Fairbank. The excitement has made me
rather faint, that is all. I shall go to my room and
lie down. Believe me, I am quite well!"
"But there is no servant in the house," he whis-
pered, "if you should become worse-
99
"If I need anything I shall not hesitate to ring,"
she answered. "It is so still, you will hear the bell.
Please go back! He has hoped for so much from
this."
Fairbank was nonplussed. But the appeal was so
obviously sincere, and the situation so difficult, that
he saw no alternative. Ailsa Brearley passed along
the corridor. Fairbank slipped back into the study,
where Moris Klaw and I anxiously awaited him.
From the inner room came Brearley's voice,
muffled.
The long vigil began.
I found myself claimed by the all-pervading spirit
302
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
of mystery. For some little time I listened in expec-
tation of hearing Ailsa Brearley returning. But soon
the strange business of the night claimed my mind, to
the exclusion of every other idea. I found myself
listening only for Brearley's muffled voice. Although
the half-audible words were meaningless, their sound
assumed, as time wore on, a curious significance.
They seemed potent with a strange power proceeding
not from them, but to them.
Then I heard a new sound.
Fairbank heard it-for I saw him start, and Moris
Klaw muttered something.
It did not come from the trees outside, nor from
the inner room. It was somewhere in the house.
A faint rattling it was, bell-like but toneless.
Brearley's voice had ceased.
Again the sound rose-nearer.
I turned my head toward Fairbank, and seemed to
perceive him more clearly. I had less difficulty in
distinguishing the objects about.
Again it came-the shivering, bell-like sound.
Even the strings of the harp were visible now.
"Curse me!" came Moris Klaw's hoarse whisper;
"it seems to grow light! That is a delusion of the
mind, my friends-repel it-repel it!"
Fairbank drew a quick, sibilant breath. A half-
suppressed exclamation from Klaw followed; for the
high-pitched rattle came from close at hand! The
sense of the supernormal had grown unbearable.
CASE OF THE VEIL OF ISIS
303
Fairbank's science and my own semi-scepticism were
but weapons of sand against it.
The door opened silently, admitting a flood of the
soft moon-like radiance. And Ailsa Brearley en-
tered!
Her slim figure was bathed in light; her fair hair,
unbound, swept like a gleaming torrent about her
shoulders. She looked magnificently, unnaturally
beautiful. A diaphanous veil was draped over her
face. From her radiant figure I turned away my
head in sudden, stark fear!
Fairbank, clutching the arms of his chair, seemed
to strive to look away, too.
Her widely opened eyes, visible even through the
veil, were awful in their supernormal, significant
beauty. Was it Ailsa Brearley? I clenched my
fists convulsively; I felt my reason tottering. As the
luminous figure, so terrible in its perfect loveliness,
moved slowly toward the inner door, with set gaze
that was not for any about her, Doctor Fairbank
wrenched himself from his chair and leapt forward.
"Ailsa!"
His voice came in a hoarse shriek. But it was
drowned by a rumbling roar from Moris Klaw.
"Look away! Look away!" he shouted. "The
good God! Do not look at her! Look away!"
The warning came too late. Fairbank had all but
reached her side, when she turned her eyes upon him
-looking fully in his face.
304
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
With no sound or cry he went down as though
felled with a mighty blow!
She passed to the door of the inner room. It swung
open noiselessly. A stifling cloud of some pungent
perfume swept into the study; and the door reclosed.
"Fairbank!" I whispered, huskily. "My God!
he's dead!"
Moris Klaw sprang forward to where Fairbank, clear-
ly visible in the soft light, lay huddled upon the floor.
"Lift him!" he hissed. "We must get him out-
before she returns-you understand?-before she re-
turns!"
Bending together, we raised the doctor's inanimate
body and half dragged, half carried him from the
room. On the landing we laid him down and stood
panting. A voice, clear and sweet, was speaking. I
recognized neither the language nor the voice. But
each liquid syllable thrilled me like an icy shock.
I met Moris Klaw's gaze, set upon me through the
pince-nez.
"Do not listen, my friend!" he said.
Raising Fairbank, we dragged him into the first room
we came to—and Klaw locked the door.
"Here we remain," he rumbled, "until something
has gone back where it came from!"
Fairbank lay motionless at our feet.
Presently came the rattling.
"It is the sistrum," whispered Moris Klaw, "the
sacred instrument of the Isis temples."
CASE OF THE VEIL OF ISIS 305
The sound passed—and faded.
"Searles! Fairbank!"-it was Brearley's voice,
sobbingly intense-"do not touch her! Do not look
at her!"
The study door crashed open and I heard his sandals
pattering on the landing.
"Fairbank! Mr. Klaw! Good God! Answer me!
Tell me you are safe!"
Moris Klaw unlocked the door.
Brearley, his face white as death and bathed in
perspiration, stood outside. As Klaw appeared, he
leapt forward, wild eyed.
"Quick! Did any one-
99
"Fairbank!" I said, huskily.
Brearley pushed into the room and turned on-the
light. Fairbank, very pale, lay propped against an
armchair. Moris Klaw immediately dropped on his
knee beside him and felt his heart.
"Ah, the good God! He is alive!" he whispered,
"Get some water-no brandy, my friend-water.
Then look to your sister!"
Brearley plunged his trembling hands into his hair
and tugged at it distractedly.
"How was I to know!" he moaned, "how was I to
know! There is water in the bottle, Mr. Klaw.
Searles will come with me. I must look for Ailsa!"
A bizarre figure, in his linen robe, he ran off. Moris
Klaw waved me to follow him.
The door of his sister's room was closed.
306
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
He knocked, but there was no reply. He turned
the knob and went in, whilst I waited in the corridor.
"Ailsa!" I heard him call, and again, "Ailsa!”
then, following an interval, "Are you all right, dear?"
he whispered.
"Oh, thank Heaven it is finished!" came a murmur
in Ailsa Brearley's soft voice. "It is finished, is it
not?"
"Quite finished," he answered.
"Just look at my hair!" she went on, with returning
animation. "My head was so bad-I think that was
why I took it down. Then I must have dropped off
to sleep."
"All right, dear," said Brearley. "I want you to
come downstairs; be as quick as you can."
He rejoined me in the corridor.
"She was lying with her hair strewn all over the
pillow!" he whispered, "and she had been burning
something ashes in the hearth———”
Ailsa came out. She seemed suddenly to observe
her brother's haggard face.
"Is there anything the matter?" she said, quickly.
"Oh! has something dreadful happened?"
"No, dear," he answered, reassuringly. "Only
Doctor Fairbank was overcome-
She turned very pale.
"He is not ill?"
""
"No. He became faint. You can come and see
for yourself."
CASE OF THE VEIL OF ISIS
307
Very quickly we all hurried downstairs. Moris
Klaw, on his knees beside the doctor, was trying to
force something between his clenched teeth. Ailsa,
with a little cry, ran forward and knelt upon the other
side of him.
"Ralph!" she whispered; "Ralph!"-and smoothed
the hair back from his forehead.
He sighed deeply, and with an effort swallowed the
draught which Klaw held to his lips. A moment
later he opened his eyes, glaring wildly into Ailsa's face.
"Ralph!" she said, brokenly.
Then, realizing how tenderly she had spoken-
using his Christian name-she hung her graceful
head in hot confusion. But he had heard her. And
the wild light died from his eyes. He took both her
hands in his own and held them fast; then, rather
unsteadily, he stood up.
As his features came more fully into the light, we
all saw that a small bruise discoloured his forehead,
squarely between the brows.
Then Brearley, who had been back into the study,
came running, crying:
"The papyrus! And my translation! Gone!"
I thought of the ashes in Ailsa Brearley's room.
IV
"My friends," rumbled Moris Klaw, impressively,
"we are fortunate. We have passed through scorch-
ing fires unscathed!"
308
THE DREAM DETECTIVE
He applied himself with vigour to the operating of
the scent spray.
"God forgive me!" said Brearley. "What did I
do?"
"I will tell you, my friend," replied Klaw; "you
clothed a thought in the beautiful form which you
knew as your sister! Ah! You stare! Ritual, my
friends, is the soul of what the ignorant call magic.
With the sacred incense, kyphi (yes, I detected it!),
you invoked secret powers. Those powers, Mr.
Brearley, were but thoughts. All such forces are
thoughts.
"Thoughts are things—and you gathered together
in this house, by that ancient formula, a thought
thing created by generations of worshippers who
have worshipped the moon!
"The light that we saw was only the moonlight,
the sounds that we heard were thought-sounds. But
so powerful was this mighty thought-force, this
centuries-old power which you loosed upon us, that
it drove out Miss Ailsa's own thoughts from her
mind, bringing what she mistook for sleep; and it
implanted itself there!
"She was transformed by that mighty power which
for a time dwelled within her. She was as powerful,
as awful, as a goddess! None might look upon her
and be sane. Hypnotism has similarities with the
ancient science of thought-yes! Suggestion is the
secret of all so-called occult phenomena!"
CASE OF THE VEIL OF ISIS
309
With his eyes gleaming oddly, he stepped forward,
resting his long white hands upon Fairbank's
shoulders.
66
'Doctor," he rumbled, "you have a bruise on your
forehead."
"Have I?" said Fairbank, in surprise. "I hadn't
noticed it."
"Because it is not a physical bruise; it is a mental
bruise, physically reflected! Nearly were you slain,
my friend-oh, so nearly! But another force-as
great as the force of ancient thought-weakened the
blow. Doctor Fairbank, it is fortunate that Miss
Ailsa loves you!"
His frank words startled us all.
"Look well at the shape of this little bruise, my
friends," continued Moris Klaw. "Mr. Brearley-
it is a shape that will be familiar to you. See! it is
thus." He drew an imaginary outline with his long
forefinger-
"And that is the sign of Isis!"
THE END
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