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Page 35
Beyond this faint, mysterious odor there was nothing else. The first
step would be to ascertain whether this narcotic was occidental or
oriental.
"Nothing doing yet," he confessed to the anxious manager. "But there
ain't any cause for you t' worry. You're not responsible for jools not
left in th' office."
"That isn't the idea. It's having the thing happen in this hotel.
We'll add another five hundred if you succeed. Not in ten years has
there been so much as a spoon missing. What do you think about it?"
"Big case. I'll be back in a little while. Don't tell th' reporters
anything."
Haggerty was on his way to a near-by chemist whom he knew, when he
espied Crawford in his electric, stalled in a jam at Forty-second and
Broadway. He had not seen the archeologist since his return from
Europe.
"Hey, Mr. Crawford!" Haggerty bawled, putting his head into the window.
"Why, Haggerty, how are you? Can I give you a lift?"
"If it won't trouble you."
"Not at all. Pretty hot weather."
"For my business. Wish I could run off t' th' seashore like you folks.
Heard o' th' Maharajah's emeralds?"
"Yes. You're on that case?"
"Trying t' get on it. Looks blank jus' now. Clever bit o' work;
something new. But I've got news for you, though. Your man Mason is
back here again. I thought I wouldn't say nothing t' you till I put my
hand on his shoulder."
"I'm sorry. I had hoped that the unfortunate devil would have had
sense to remain abroad."
"Then you knew he was over there?"--quickly. "See him?"
"No. I shall never feel anything but sorry for him. You can not live
with a man as I did, for ten years, and not regret his misstep."
"Oh, I understand your side. But that man was a born crook, an' th'
cleverest I ever run up against. For all you know, he may have been
back of a lot o' tricks Central never got hold of. I'll bet that each
time that you went over with him, he took loot an' disposed of it. I
may be pig-headed sometimes, but I'm dead sure o' this. Wait some day
an' see. Say, take a whiff o' this an' tell me what y' think it is."
Haggerty produced the handkerchief.
"I don't smell anything," said Crawford.
Haggerty seized the handkerchief and sniffed, gently, then violently.
All he could smell was reminiscent of washtubs. The mysterious odor
was gone.
CHAPTER XIV
This is not a story of the Maharajah's emeralds; only a knot in the
landing-net of which I have already spoken. I may add with equal
frankness that Haggerty, upon his own initiative, never proceeded an
inch beyond the keyhole episode. It was one of his many failures; for,
unlike the great fictional detectives who never fail, Haggerty was
human, and did. It is only fair to add, however, that when he failed
only rarely did any one else succeed. If ever criminal investigation
was a man's calling, it was Haggerty's. He had infinite patience, the
heart of a lion and the strength of a gorilla. Had he been highly
educated, as a detective he would have been a fizzle; his mind would
have been concerned with variant lofty thoughts, and the sordid would
have repelled him: and all crimes are painted on a background of
sordidness. In one thing Haggerty stood among his peers and topped
many of them; in his long record there was not one instance of his
arresting an innocent man.
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