The Jewel of Seven Stars by Bram Stoker (books to read in your 20s TXT) 📕

of such work done still, and in other places than

Brum. When we’re looking for stolen watches we often come across the

works, and it’s not possible to identify wheels and springs out of a

heap; but it’s not often that we come across cases that are wanted.

Now, in the present instance much will depend on whether the thief is a

good man-that’s what they call a man who knows his work. A first-class

crook will know whether a thing is of more value than merely the metal

in it; and in such case he would put it with someone who could place it

later on-in America or France, perhaps. By the way, do you think anyone

but yourself could identify your lamps?”

 

“No one but myself!”

 

“Are there others like them?”

 

“Not that I know of,” answered Mr. Corbeck; “though there may be others

that resemble them in many particulars.” The Detective paused before

asking again: “Would any other skilled person-at the British Museum, for

instance, or a dealer, or a collector like Mr. Trelawny, know the value-the artistic value-of the lamps?”

 

“Certainly! Anyone with a head on his houlders would see at a glance

that the things were valuable.”

 

The Detective’s face brightened. “Then there is a chance. If your door

was locked and the window shut, the goods were not stolen by the chance

of a chambermaid or a boots coming along. Whoever did the job went

after it special; and he ain’t going to part with his swag without his

price. This must be a case of notice to the pawnbrokers. There’s one

good thing about it, anyhow, that the hue and cry needn’t be given. We

needn’t tell Scotland Yard unless you like; we can work the thing

privately. If you wish to keep the thing dark, as you told me at the

first, that is our chance.” Mr. Corbeck, after a pause, said quietly:

 

“I suppose you couldn’t hazard a suggestion as to how the robbery was

effected?” The Policeman smiled the smile of knowledge and experience.

 

“In a very simple way, I have no doubt, sir. That is how all these

mysterious crimes turn out in the long-run. The criminal knows his work

and all the tricks of it; and he is always on the watch for chances.

Moreover, he knows by experience what these chances are likely to be,

and how they usually come. The other person is only careful; he doesn’t

know all the tricks and pits that may be made for him, and by some

little oversight or other he falls into the trap. When we know all

about this case, you will wonder that you did not see the method of it

all along!” This seemed to annoy Mr. Corbeck a little; there was

decided heat in his manner as he answered:

 

“Look here, my good friend, there is not anything simple about this

case-except that the things were taken. The window was closed; the

fireplace was bricked up. There is only one door to the room, and that

I locked and bolted. There is no transom; I have heard all about hotel

robberies through the transom. I never left my room in the night. I

looked at the things before going to bed; and I went to look at them

again when I woke up. If you can rig up any kind of simple robbery out

of these facts you are a clever man. That’s all I say; clever enough to

go right away and get my things back.” Miss Trelawny laid her hand upon

his arm in a soothing way, and said quietly:

 

“Do not distress yourself unnecessarily. I am sure they will turn up.”

Sergeant Daw turned to her so quickly that I could not help remembering

vividly his suspicions of her, already formed, as he said:

 

“May I ask, miss, on what you base that opinion?”

 

I dreaded to hear her answer, given to ears already awake to supicion;

but it came to me as a new pain or shock all the same:

 

“I cannot tell you how I know. But I am sure of it!” The Detective

looked at her for some seconds in silence, and then threw a quick glance

at me.

 

Presently he had a little more conversation with Mr. Corbeck as to his

own movements, the details of the hotel and the room, and the means of

identifying the goods. Then he went away to commence his inquiries, Mr.

Corbeck impressing on him the necessity for secrecy lest the thief

should get wind of his danger and destroy the lamps. Mr. Corbeck

promised, when going away to attend to various matters of his own

business, to return early in the evening, and to stay in the house.

 

All that day Miss Trelawny was in better spirits and looked in better

strength than she had yet been, despite the new shock and annoyance of

the theft which must ultimately bring so much disappointment to her

father.

 

We spent most of the day looking over the curio treasures of Mr.

Trelawny. From what I had heard from Mr. Corbeck I began to have some

idea of the vastness of his enterprise in the world of Egyptian

research; and with this light everything around me began to have a new

interest. As I went on, the interest grew; any lingering doubts which I

might have had changed to wonder and admiration. The house seemed to be

a veritable storehouse of marvels of antique art. In addition to the

curios, big and little, in Mr. Trelawny’s own room-from the great

sarcophagi down to the scarabs of all kinds in the cabinets-the great

hall, the staircase landings, the study, and even the boudoir were full

of antique pieces which would have made a collector’s mouth water.

 

Miss Trelawny from the first came with me, and looked with growing

interest at everything. After having examined some cabinets of

exquisite amulets she said to me in quite a naive way:

 

“You will hardly believe that I have of late seldom even looked at any

of these things. It is only since Father has been ill that I seem to

have even any curiosity about them. But now, they grow and grow on me to

quite an absorbing degree. I wonder if it is that the collector’s blood

which I have in my veins is beginning to manifest itself. If so, the

strange thing is that I have not felt the call of it before. Of course

I know most of the big things, and have examined them more or less; but

really, in a sort of way I have always taken them for granted, as though

they had always been there. I have noticed the same thing now and again

with family pictures, and the way they are taken for granted by the

family. If you will let me examine them with you it will be

delightful!”

 

It was a joy to me to hear her talk in such a way; and her last

suggestion quite thrilled me. Together we went round the various rooms

and passages, examining and admiring the magnificent curios. There was

such a bewildering amount and variety of objects that we could only

glance at most of them; but as we went along we arranged that we should

take them seriatim, day by day, and examine them more closely. In the

hall was a sort of big frame of floriated steel work which Margaret said

her father used for lifting the heavy stone lids of the sarcophagi. It

was not heavy and could be moved about easily enough. By aid of this we

raised the covers in turn and looked at the endless series of

hieroglyphic pictures cut in most of them. In spite of her profession

of ignorance Margaret knew a good deal about them; her year of life with

her father had had unconsciously its daily and hourly lesson. She was a

remarkably clever and acute-minded girl, and with a prodigious memory;

so that her store of knowledge, gathered unthinkingly bit by bit, had

grown to proportions that many a scholar might have envied.

 

And yet it was all so naive and unconscious; so girlish and simple. She

was so fresh in her views and ideas, and had so little thought of self,

that in her companionship I forgot for the time all the troubles and

mysteries which enmeshed the house; and I felt like a boy again… .

 

The most interesting of the sarcophagi were undoubtedly the three in Mr.

Trelawny’s room. Of these, two were of dark stone, one of porphyry and

the other of a sort of ironstone. These were wrought with some

hieroglyphs. But the third was strikingly different. It was of some

yellow-brown substance of the dominating colour effect of Mexican onyx,

which it resembled in many ways, excepting that the natural pattern of

its convolutions was less marked. Here and there were patches almost

transparent-certainly translucent. The whole chest, cover and all, was

wrought with hundreds, perhaps thousands, of minute hieroglyphics,

seemingly in an endless series. Back, front, sides, edges, bottom, all

had their quota of the dainty pictures, the deep blue of their colouring

showing up fresh and sharply edge in the yellow stone. It was very

long, nearly nine feet; and perhaps a yard wide. The sides undulated,

so that there was no hard line. Even the corners took such excellent

curves that they pleased the eye. “Truly,” I said, “this must have been

made for a giant!”

 

“Or for a giantess!” said Margaret.

 

This sarcophagus stood near to one of the windows. It was in one

respect different from all the other sarcophagi in the place. All the

others in the house, of whatever material-granite, porphyry, ironstone,

basalt, slate, or wood-were quite simple in form within. Some of them

were plain of interior surface; others were engraved, in whole or part,

with hieroglyphics. But each and all of them had no protuberances or

uneven surface anywhere. They might have been used for baths; indeed,

they resembled in many ways Roman baths of stone or marble which I had

seen. Inside this, however, was a raised space, outlined like a human

figure. I asked Margaret if she could explain it in any way. For

answer she said:

 

“Father never wished to speak about this. It attracted my attention

from the first; but when I asked him about it he said: ‘I shall tell

you all about it some day, little girl-if I live! But not yet! The

story is not yet told, as I hope to tell it to you! Some day, perhaps

soon, I shall know all; and then we shall go over it together. And a

mighty interesting story you will find it-from first to last!’ Once

afterward I said, rather lightly I am afraid: ‘Is that story of the

sarcophagus told yet, Father?’ He shook his head, and looked at me

gravely as he said: ‘Not yet, little girl; but it will be-if I live-if

I live!’ His repeating that phrase about his living rather frightened

me; I never ventured to ask him again.”

 

Somehow this thrilled me. I could not exactly say how or why; but it

seemed like a gleam of light at last. There are, I think, moments when

the mind accepts something as true; though it can account for neither

the course of the thought, nor, if there be more than one thought, the

connection between them. Hitherto we had been in such outer darkness

regarding Mr. Trelawny, and the strange visitation which had fallen on

him, that anything which afforded a clue, even of the faintest and most

shadowy kind, had at the outset the enlightening satisfaction of a

certainty. Here were two lights of our puzzle. The first that Mr.