It had long been a matter of great irritation to him that Leith refused to address him by the name of Beaver, but habitually referred to him as “Scuttle,” a nickname bestowed because of a fancied resemblance in Leith’s mind to a reincarnated pirate. Now the valet concealed his irritation by seizing the opportunity to discuss the theft of the necklace. He knew from experience that if he could turn Leith’s razor-sharp mind to the problem of the theft, it was quite possible that Leith, with no more information than was given by the newspaper accounts, would spot the thief. Once that had been done, the spy knew that a series of baffling and seemingly unrelated incidents would then occur which would culminate in Leith urbanely walking off with the loot under such circumstances that the police would be just one jump behind. Later, one of Leith’s charities would be enhanced by the exact amount which Leith had received for the sale of the loot, less 20 per cent which the police shrewdly suspected was retained by Leith as the costs of collection.
Beaver lived in anticipation of the moment when Leith’s smooth-working mind would overlook a bet, and the police would not be that one jump behind. So far that had not happened. At times the police had been almost on Leith’s heels, but they had never quite caught up.
“A most baffling crime, sir,” the spy said.
“Baffling?” Leith asked.
“Yes, sir. The pearl necklace.”
“Oh, that,” Leith said. “I fail to see anything baffling about it, Scuttle. It’s a run-of-the-mill crime. I suppose it would seem baffling to the untrained mind because of the mystery which seems to surround the manner in which Shogiro acquired the necklace in the first place. However, that’s only background. The crime itself is quite simple.”
“Simple, sir!” the valet exclaimed.
“Exactly,” Leith said.
“Perhaps then,” the spy said, in his best wheedling technique, “you can tell me who committed it.”
Leith selected a cigarette and said quite calmly, “That’s true, Scuttle.”
“What’s true, sir?”
“Perhaps I could tell you the identity of the thief.”
“Yes, sir?” the spy asked eagerly.
Leith struck a match.
“I’m waiting, sir,” the valet said.
“A most commendable habit,” Leith said, “that of patience, Scuttle. I recommend it most highly. At times, I’ve noticed a tendency on your part to be impatient.”
“I beg your pardon, sir, but you said you were going to tell me the identity of the culprit.”
Leith said, “Oh, no, Scuttle. There you go, misunderstanding me again. You merely mentioned that perhaps I could tell you the identity of the thief, and I admitted that perhaps I could.”
The spy flushed, but he kept his voice under control. “Yes, sir. I appreciate the distinction. Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t mention it,” Leith said.
The spy tried another approach. “Of course, sir,” he said, with a cunning gleam in his eye, “any man of ordinary intelligence could point out the probable criminal in live cases out of ten. The police, however, have a different problem. They have to prove that a man is guilty.”
Leith said, almost musingly, “After all, Scuttle, why not? The crime has everything to challenge the imagination of the investigator: Oriental background, fabulous pearls, a mysterious disappearance, and— Yes, Scuttle, I will commission you to do it.”
“To do what, sir?”
“To go through the newspapers and note every single fact about the crime.”
The spy’s eyes lit up. “Yes, sir. When shall I start?”
“Right now,” Leith said. “And by the way, Scuttle...”
“Yes, sir.”
“I notice that Mr. Sansone has a Chinese secretary.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Find out about her. Get a full description of the pearls. I think Mr. Shogiro stated they were the duplicate of a string which has been illustrated in some publication on the museum pieces of China. Find out whether Peter Grier speaks Chinese, and whether Frank Thoms, the big game hunter, intends to go to Alaska this fall for Kodiac grizzly. And, oh, yes, find out if Shogiro has given up his proposed trip to Europe. As I remember it, he intended to sail the middle of the month.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And get me the address of every manufacturer in the city who handles equipment for amateur magicians.”
The spy blinked.
“And,” Leith said, “I think that is all — for the moment.”
Lester Leith strolled into the newspaper office with a want ad.
“Help Wanted — Female,” he said to the young woman behind the counter. “Run this ad in a box so that it will attract considerable attention.”
She read it through, then glanced quickly at Leith. “It will cost a lot,” she explained.
“Quite all right,” he assured her.
She counted the words, made a note of the total, and then looked at the hundred-dollar bill which Leith took from his pocket and slipped across the counter. She opened the cash drawer, made change, and handed him a receipt.
“I want the earliest possible publication,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
She followed him with her eyes as he left the office, then hastily beckoned to the girl on her left. “Gosh, Mamie,” she said, “don’t you wish you were Chinese?”
“Shucks, no,” the girl said, patting her hair. “Who was the swell, Gert?”
“Read it,” Gertrude said, handing Leith’s copy over to Mamie. “He wants a Chinese secretary who is young and free to travel. He wants someone who knows Chinese history and who has a college education. He offers to pay six hundred dollars a month and all traveling expenses... Think of working for a guy like him and getting six hundred bucks a month for it!”
Meanwhile, Leith took a taxi to one of the largest bookstores. “I want some of your best books,” he said, “on legerdemain.”
And while this was happening, Beaver sat closeted with Sergeant Ackley at police headquarters. Ackley worried the stump of a cold cigar as he listened, his forehead puckered into a prodigious frown.
When the undercover man had finished, Ackley said, “Listen, Beaver, if we could put this thing across, we could make a clean-up. Shogiro has offered a reward of five thousand bucks and no questions asked.”
The undercover man whistled.
Sergeant Ackley said, “I’ll get you the file, and you can go over it. Don’t let him get away on this, Beaver. This is the biggest thing we’ve ever tackled. If we could nail him, and at the same time get that necklace, we could kill two birds with one stone. Think of what you could do with twenty-five hundred bucks in cold, hard cash.”
The undercover man sighed.
“Don’t overlook Charles Sansone in this thing,” Sergeant Ackley said. “The facts point to him as the slicker, although he’s fired his Chinese secretary — a nice way of diverting suspicion from himself.”
“Why?” Beaver asked. “That is, what reason does he give for firing her?”
“Seems she’d violated instructions. Sansone told her to clear out and not come back until after the dinner. He had his eye on that necklace — wanted to buy it from Shogiro. Shogiro wanted to sell it. They were doing a little trading on the price. Apparently, the necklace is a pip, in addition to which it was worn by the Empress Dowager of China and has a lot of history attached to it... By the way, what’s all this stuff about the amateur magic?”
“Hanged if I know,” Beaver said. “You know what he does when he starts working on a case. He gets a lot of goofy stuff together. Some of it’s important, some of it isn’t — but it all fits in some way.”
“Well,” Sergeant Ackley chuckled, “this is once he’ll come a cropper. He hasn’t any head start on us this time. We’re in on the ground floor.”