The Argosy, April 1916 — page 18: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

g THE ARGOSY. His boast was not an idle one. Following the course of able predecessors, and himself an able police officer, the chief had kept th: name of Utica a ringing terror to evil- doers. Few escaped his vigilance and the activity of the small force at his command. Blake soon appeared, in citizen’s clothing. ‘John Raymond’s house, Genesee,” ex- plained the chief laconically. “All Miss Raymond’s wedding presents gone—in the night.” “Any information, inside or outside job?” “No information except there is one guest missing.” “Man or woman?” “Don’t know. You will learn that when you get there. Make it a quick job. A thing like this will spread all over the State.” “T’ll wind ’em up,” said Blake. A few strides took him to the Genesee Street trolley line. A few minutes sufficed for the car to reach Raymond’s house. De- tective Blake, though he knew the place well enough, could not forbear a moment’s survey of the beautiful lawns, and the splen- did front of the mansion. “George Greenland knows the right but- ter-tub to sit down in,” he said to himself, as he strode up the tessellated walk. _. He rang the bell. He knew he rang the ~ bell, for he heard the heavy gong through the massive oaken doors. Yet the door did not open. : Blake rang again. And again he waited. ‘“‘What the devil is the matter in there?”’ Mr. Blake asked of himself. © Suddenly Sims appeared around the cor- ner of the veranda. ‘The face of Sims wore a bewildered look. As a butler Sims was superb. As a factor in the unraveling of a crime he was a sheep. “Sir,”’ said Sims, ‘‘I must ask you to en- ter by way of the porte cochére. The front door is locked, and we cannot find the key.” “T’ll enter by way of the chimney, if you say so,” answered Blake. ‘Lead on.” He was soon in the dining-room, now oc- cupied only by Mr. Raymond and George Greenland. Mrs. Raymond was with Nancy in her bedroom, where with the assistance of two maids the distracted mother was bringing the girl back to consciousness. “T am Blake, from headquarters,” nounced the detective. Mr. Greenland.” “T certainly do. Detective Blake.” an- “You know me, Mr. Raymond, this is Raymond turned a fierce face toward the detective. “Look!” he said with unnecessary energy, as he swept his arm over a portion ‘of the mahogany table. ‘Last night when the household retired this table was laden with thousands of dollars’ worth of silver wed- ding presents. Thousands, sir! Now look. A maid in the house discovered about half- past six this morning—what you see now, sir. All gone—gone in the dark of the night. A pretty place Utica is getting to be for wealthy people. An entire silver- smith’s establishment could hold no more than this table did last night. Where has it gone?”’ Blake scarcely repressed a smile. He knew that Raymond was not a native born Utican. He had lived in many mill and factory towns, moving from one to another, always on the upgrade in his choice of popu- lation, location and opportunity for display- ing wealth. It had been rumored that John Raymond was not an easy taskmaster to the employes who created his wealth. There was a merci- less glitter in his eyes now. “You speak only of silver, by which I suppose you mean plate mostly, and orna- ments. In such a collection of wedding presents one is likely to find jewels. Any jewels stolen?” | ‘“‘Ha! I never thought of that,” said Mr. Raymond, who, as a matter of fact, had not thought of anything except to have Sims telephone the police. ‘There were jewels. But they were put in my wife’s boudoir safe.” ‘“‘And you have not ascertained whether that was molested?”’ “That has not occurred to any of us. The oversight can be easily__remedied. Sims, go to Mrs. Raymond’s room and see if the safe is locked. If Mrs. -Raymond can be seen, ask her to open the safe and make sure if the jewels are there.” While Sims was gone Mr. Raymond paced to and fro in the dining-room, show- ing great agitation. At that moment Yale, who had taken the opportunity to go to his room to rearrange his clothing; came in, looking as though no excitement had ever entered his uneventful life. He glanced curiously at the detective. “Kenneth, Detective Blake,’ explained Greenland. ‘“‘Mr. Blake, my friend and old schoolmate, Kenneth Yale. We went to the Academy together.” MICLOOOK C@