“This of mine is entirely different.”
“What is it?”
“A number of yachts have lately been robbed by river-pirates, and I want you to run them down and break up the gang. The finishings, the pictures, plate, and in short, everything transportable, have disappeared, and there is no doubt in my mind that it is all the work of the same gang.”
CHAPTER II.
Folio XI—G.
“H'm! Tell me about the case which you have principally in mind.”
“Are you acquainted with Jasper Gregory?”
“I know who he is.”
“He owns the schooner yacht Twilight. She is a beauty. She cost Mr. Gregory over a hundred thousand dollars all told.
“About a week ago the river pirates got at her.
“They took away everything of value that they could find; in fact, about fifteen thousand dollars will be required to replace what was stolen.”
So much?”
“Yes. Gregory does not mind the loss of all that so much as he does the disappearance of a small steel casket, which was in one of the cabin lockers.”
“A small steel casket?”
“Yes, and of chilled steel at that. Gregory says the robbers cannot break it open with anything short of dynamite. As soon as he discovered the loss he advertised in the Herald, offering five thousand dollars for the return of the casket and no questions asked.”
“And received no reply?”
“On the contrary, he did!”
“Ah! What was it?”
“The writer said that the casket would be returned to the owner if he would pay the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars for it; that he would wait fifteen days for a reply, and that at the end of that time if Gregory did not agree, the casket would be sunk in the middle of the East river.”
How was Gregory to reply?”
“In a curious manner. He was simply to wear a blue ribbon in his buttonhole.”
“Has Gregory taken any notice of the letter?”
“No.”
“How many days have elapsed? I mean, when did he receive the letter?”
“It will be one week to-morrow.”
“And then he came to you?”
“Yes. He came yesterday.”
“What did he say?”
“That he would give ten thousand dollars to the man who would return that casket to him.”
“It can be done, inspector.”
“Will you do it?”
“I will take charge of the case and give it as much personal attention as I can.”
“Very good; that will be satisfactory.”
“Did Gregory say what the casket contained?”
“He said the contents could make no difference in the search for the casket itself, and would form no clew to the matter, and added:
“I am not ready yet to say just what my little strong box did contain. If the knowledge becomes necessary, we will make use of it. '”
Rather odd, that.”
“Yes. Gregory is a queer fish, but a very good fellow.”
“He is rich?”
“Very. A million or two.”
“He described the casket?”
“He did better, for I have a photograph of it.”
“Indeed!”
“Yes. He thought that some such necessity as this one might arise, and he had the casket photographed a year or two ago.”
“Did you ask him how long the casket had been in his possession?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Five years.”
Nick was silent a moment. “Inspector,” he said, presently, “how long have you known Gregory?”
“Several years.”
“Has he always lived in New York ?”
“No, I believe not.”
“When did he come here?”
“A few years ago.”
“Then his record must be in this office.”
“True.”
“Let us glance at it.”
“Certainly; though why——”
“Simple curiosity. I like to know for whom I am working. Byrnes, when he was inspector, was very particular to take the pedigree of everybody who interested him. His system of notes was the most perfect I ever saw.”
At that moment the sergeant appeared at the door.
The inspector glanced at a small book, which he took from his desk; then, looking up, he said to the sergeant:
“Bring me 'Folio XI—G.'”
The sergeant in a moment re-entered with a volume in his hands that looked like a huge scrapbook.
On the back were letters “XI—G.” The inspector spent several moments in turning over the pages.
Suddenly he said: “Here we have it.”
“Read it aloud,” replied Nick.
“'Gregory, Jasper,'“read the inspector; “'mem. May 1, 1887. Age, 46. Height, 6 feet 1 inch. Dark, muscular, smooth face, big hands, walks like a soldier, rich. Made his money in Nevada, mining. Worth a million or more. Hails from Nye County. Once a cowboy, prospector and miner. Struck it rich. Came to New York to settle down, April, 1887. (Above, his story.)'
“That's straight enough, Nick.”
“Yes, read on.”
“'Mem. from Nevada. Known as “Jap” Gregory and “Big Jap.” Known here ten years or more. Quiet and mysterious; feared somewhat. Super of mine in Smoky Valley; bought interest in the mine. Partners quit suddenly in '85. Big Jap operated the mine. Early in '87 said he had made his pile, sold out and left. But little known concerning him.
“'There is a rumor concerning him as follows, which, however, has not been substantiated. Said to be an ex-convict who came to America from Australia. Rumor comes from a half-crazy fellow who worked in the mine. Note:The only suspicious thing concerning J. L. G. is the mystery which surrounded him. T.B.'
“That's all,” added the inspector, looking up. “Thanks! I'll just copy that, if you will permit me.”
“Can't do that, Nick. Learn it by heart, if you like. Here,” and he passed the book to the detective.
Nick spent three or four minutes in reading over the memoranda, and then returned the book to the inspector.
“Got it?” asked the chief. “Yes,” and then Nick repeated the notes word for word, just as they had been ready to him.
“You're a wonderful fellow, Carter,” murmured the inspector, with undisguised admiration. “Now, tell me what you make of all this?”
“Not much—yet.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that while I am looking for the steel casket, I shall make an effort to find out something more concerning Mr. Jasper Gregory.”
“How? Byrnes probably exhausted every resource.”
“I have one that he could not use.”
“Ah!”
“Chick came from Nevada. He was a boy there, in this same neighborhood, when I picked him up. He has continued some of his friendships of the old days, and—Well, I will talk with him a little before I say more.”
“All right.”
“By the way, is Barney engaged now?”
“No.”
Barney was one of the attaches of the central office. A little, thin, weasel-faced individual, who never had an original idea, and whose entire ambition was summed up in the word obedience. Given an order, and he would obey it with the unswerving determination of a machine. As a shadow, he had no superior, but he had never in the world been guilty of advancing a theory upon any case in which he was engaged.
Taken originally to the scene of a crime, or asked to unravel a mystery, he was as helpless and incompetent as a schoolgirl; but let someone direct him, tell him what to do, and how to do it, and he had no equal for methodical tenacity and slyness.
Nick sometimes made use of him, and now he said:
“Keep him free for a day or so, inspector; I may want him.”
“I will.”
Nick left the central office, and repaired at once to his own home where he found Chick.
“I want you, lad,” he said. “Ready—always ready,” and the younger man followed his master to the little study.
“Chick, have you finished the Morrison case?”