The Prince Kupoli has been
here to get my advice regarding the disappearance of certain rubies
from the Kremlin; the Rajah of Pootibad, after vainly beheading his
entire bodyguard, has been obliged to seek my assistance to recover
a jeweled sword. The Grand Duchess of Pretzel-Brauntswig is
desirous of discovering where her husband was on the night of
February 14; and last night"--he lowered his voice slightly--"a
lodger in this very house, meeting me on the stairs, wanted to know
why they didn't answer his bell."
I could not help smiling--until I saw a frown gathering on his
inscrutable forehead.
"Pray remember," he said coldly, "that it was through such an
apparently trivial question that I found out Why Paul Ferroll
Killed His Wife, and What Happened to Jones!"
I became dumb at once. He paused for a moment, and then suddenly
changing back to his usual pitiless, analytical style, he said:
"When I say these are trifles, they are so in comparison to an
affair that is now before me. A crime has been committed,--and,
singularly enough, against myself. You start," he said. "You
wonder who would have dared to attempt it. So did I; nevertheless,
it has been done. I have been ROBBED!"
YOU robbed! You, Hemlock Jones, the Terror of Peculators!" I
gasped in amazement, arising and gripping the table as I faced him.
"Yes! Listen.
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