This was Stephen Gloucester. The dignified banking official had volunteered to stay. The other guests had been dismissed following the checking of their testimony.
With Gloucester were Inspector Timothy Klein and Detective Joe Cardona. The fourth member of the group was a new arrival, none other than Police Commissioner Ralph Weston.
A man of dynamic personality, a powerful driver, who forced his subordinates hard along the trail of crime, the police commissioner took an active interest in all cases where mystery lay thick. He had been reached by telephone. He had come here to learn facts.
Joe Cardona, in a careful but monotonous tone, was reading the testimony of all who had been present. Stephen Gloucester was nodding his accord with every statement. When Cardona completed his reading, he laid his sheets aside and looked at the police commissioner.
“Is that all?” snapped Weston.
“All,” returned Cardona.
There was a pause. Cardona arose and paced the floor. His footsteps carried him to the hallway at the rear of the living room. He swung back, hands in pockets. and faced the police commissioner.
“I have accounted for everyone,” he declared. “You heard the statements, commissioner. I double-checked them, and they fitted. At the time when Rutherford Casslin left this room to go up to his tower, every guest was here.”
“What about the servants?” asked Weston.
“Hubert and Hodges accompanied Casslin to the tower door,” explained Cardona. “While Hubert was locking it after Casslin had entered, Hodges came back here.”
Another pause. Cardona offered no theory. He was leaving that to Commissioner Weston. The ace detective had an inferiority complex so far as the commissioner was concerned. He preferred to let Weston speak first, and then offer suggestions. Whenever Cardona began with a theory, Weston was sure to shoot holes in it.
While the group was silent, a footstep sounded at the side door of the living room. Doctor Lysander Dubrong, suave of manner and frail of build, entered to join the group.
“Mrs. Casslin is resting well,” he announced, in a mild tone. “Very well, indeed.”
He drew a pipe from his pocket, filled it with tobacco from a pouch, and applied a match. The heavy aroma of perique became apparent as the physician puffed the strong mixture. Dubrong sat down and looked from one person to another with an almost inquiring air.
COMMISSIONER WESTON, puzzled by the problem which confronted him, swung to the physician and advanced a query. Cardona listened intently.
“You were not here, Doctor Dubrong?” asked Weston.
“At the time of the murder?” returned the physician. “No. I left here shortly after nine o’clock. I had started home, but before I reached Manhattan, I called my apartment. They told me that I was wanted back here. I made good time on the return ride. I called my apartment house from close by the bridge, so I had very little traffic to impede me.”
A slight flicker of keen interest showed on Cardona’s swarthy face. The detective made no comment, however. He had not obtained this statement from Doctor Dubrong. The physician’s exactitude of speaking impressed him.
“It was after your departure, then,” observed Weston, “that a few of the guests accompanied Casslin when he went to the tower to obtain the diamond.”
“I presume so,” smiled Dubrong. “Not having been here, commissioner, I am unable to state what happened.”
“How many persons” — Weston turned to Cardona — “accompanied Casslin on that trip?”
“When he went up to get the diamond?” asked the detective. “Five, I think” — Cardona paused to refer to his notations — “yes, five.”
“And the last time,” reflected Weston, “Casslin went up alone. Hm-m-m. What puzzles me is this. The Hindu was after that diamond. He didn’t have it on his person, however. He was armed only with a knife.”
“May I offer a theory?” inquired Doctor Dubrong.
“Certainly,” agreed Weston.
“I have seen a few Hindus in New York,” asserted the physician. “Perhaps you have heard of my East Side Clinic, where I give free medical attention to characters whom others might regard as hopeless. Hindus have come there.”
“Was the dead Hindu ever in your clinic?”
“I do not believe so. I have, however, noticed this fact regarding Hindus who live in New York. Being far from their native land, and few in number, they invariably travel in pairs. Therefore, I suppose that on an enterprise so important as the theft of a valuable diamond, two would work together.”
“Remarkable!” exclaimed the commissioner. “What is your opinion on this point, Cardona?”
“I have none, commissioner,” admitted the detective. “The Hindus that I have seen, keep away from crime. If they are anything like the Chinese—”
“They are entirely different from the Chinese,” interposed Doctor Dubrong, in an authoritative tone. “As I have just mentioned, they travel in pairs. Every time a Hindu has come to my clinic, he has been accompanied by a friend.
“This is a characteristic of the Hindu race — particularly among those who are murderously inclined. I have studied the history of the Thugs of India. With them, murder was a religion; and there were always two — or more — involved.”
“But in this case,” began the commissioner, “there could not well have been two. Unless one managed to escape while his companion was scuffling with Hubert, the servant.”
“That is not my theory at all,” returned Dubrong. The physician puffed furiously at his pipe; then laid it on a table, while he leaned forward to impress his point. “I believe there were two but that only one entered the tower. How he passed Hubert is only a matter of conjecture. But let us consider it as follows.
“Two Hindus. One was doubly armed, with revolver as well as knife. Another was peering through the window of this room. Miss Lydell, I understand, caught a glimpse of his face. The first Hindu was somewhere in the house. He managed to follow Casslin into the tower. The other dropped from the balcony and circled the castle.
“The Hindu who slipped by Hubert shot Casslin in the tower room. He took the box that contained the diamond. He tossed it, and his revolver also, through one of the slitted windows, to his companion below.”
“Why the revolver?” asked Commissioner Weston.
“You mean why did he rid himself of the revolver as well as the diamond?” Dubrong smiled. “Because the revolver was the instrument of murder. He did not want to have it on his person. Moreover, he knew that it would be unwise to use it below, where the sound of a shot could be heard.”
“Logical,” decided Weston.
“Then came the attempt at escape,” proceeded Dubrong. “The Hindu came down the stairs. He knocked at the door. Hubert opened it. The Hindu leaped upon him, with the knife. He killed Hubert, but Hodges arrived in time to end the assassin’s life.
“Thus, Mr. Commissioner, we have the answer. Hindus were seeking the Bishenpur diamond. Hindus were unable to buy it from Rutherford Casslin. Hindus plotted, and Hindus gained the diamond.”
As Dubrong arose and picked up his pipe, Commissioner Weston arose also. He extended his hand in congratulation. Doctor Dubrong received it with a smile.
“I congratulate you, doctor,” assured the commissioner. “Your theory is an excellent one. We shall send out a flyer to apprehend all Hindus in New York. Perhaps we shall be able to capture the man who has the Bishenpur diamond.”
Doctor Dubrong bowed. His thin lips wore a faint smile. Joe Cardona alone detected the expression. Dubrong prepared to leave. Cardona watched him. After the physician had departed, the ace detective settled back into his chair.
COMMISSIONER WESTON seemed elated. He began to expound upon Dubrong’s theory. Klein and Gloucester received his words with nods. Cardona, alone, remained obdurate. The detective was referring to his notes.