The Bandbox

Iff laughed quietly. “My dear lady,” he said, “I priced the necklace at Cottier’s in Paris the day before you purchased it. Unfortunately it was beyond my means.”

“A bit thick,” commented the purser in an acid voice.

“Now, listen” – Iff turned to face him with a flush of choler – “you keep on that way and I’ll land on you if it’s the last act of my gay young life. You hear me?”

“That will do, sir!” barked the captain.

“I trust so, sincerely,” replied Iff.

“Be silent!” The captain’s voice ascended a full octave.

“Oh, very well, very well. I hear you – perfectly.” With this the little man subsided, smiling feebly at vacancy.

Staff interposed hastily, in the interests of peace: “The supposition is, then, that the thief got in during those five minutes that Jane was away from the room?”

“It couldn’t have happened at any other time, of course,” said Alison.

“And, equally of course, it couldn’t have happened then,” said Iff.

“Why not?” the woman demanded.

“The girl was gone only five minutes. That’s right, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” said Jane.

“And the door was locked – you’re positive about that?”

“Quite, sir.”

“Then will anyone explain how any thief could effect an entrance, pull a heavy steamer trunk out from under a bed, get at the bag, cut a slit in its side, extract the leather case —and the collar, to be sure – replace the bag, replace the trunk, leave the stateroom and lock the door, all in five short minutes – and without any key?” Iff wound up triumphantly: “I tell you, it couldn’t be done; it ain’t human.”

“But a skeleton-key – ” Manvers began.

“O you!” said Iff with a withering glance. “The door to Miss Landis’ suite opens directly opposite the head of the main companionway, which is in constant use – people going up and down all the time. Can you see anybody, however expert, picking a lock with a bunch of skeleton-keys in that exposed position without being caught red-handed? Not on your vivid imagination, young man.”

“There may, however, be duplicate keys to the staterooms,” Alison countered.

“My dear lady,” said Iff, humbly, “there are; and unless this ship differs radically from others, those duplicate keys are all in the purser’s care. Am I right, Mr. Manvers?”

“Yes,” said Manvers sullenly.

“And here’s another point,” resumed Iff. “May I ask you a question or two, Miss Landis?” Alison nodded curtly. “You kept the handbag locked, I presume?”

“Certainly.”

“And when you found it had been tampered with, did you unlock it?”

“There wasn’t any need,” said Alison. “You can see for yourself the opening in the side is so large – ”

“Then you didn’t unlock it?”

“No.”

“That only makes it the more mysterious. Because, you see, it’s unlocked now.”

There was a concerted movement of astonishment.

“How do you make that out, sir?” demanded the captain.

“You can see for yourself (to borrow Miss Landis’ phrase) if you’ll only use your eyes, as I have. The side clasps are in place, all right, but the slide on the lock itself is pushed a trifle to the left; which it couldn’t be if the bag were locked.”

There was a hint of derision in the little man’s voice; and his sarcastic smile was flickering round his thin lips as he put out one hand, drew the bag to him, lifted the clasps, and pushing back the lock-slide, opened it wide.

“The thot plickens,” he observed gravely. “For my part I am unable to imagine any bold and enterprising crook taking the trouble to cut open this bag when the most casual examination would have shown him that it wasn’t locked.”

“He might ’ve done it as a blind…” Manvers suggested.

“Officer!” piped Iff in a plaintive voice – “he’s in again.”

The purser, colouring to the temples, took a step toward the little man, his hands twitching, but at a gesture from the captain paused, controlled himself and fell back.

For a few moments there was quiet in the cabin, while those present digested Iff’s conclusions and acknowledged their logic irrefragable. Staff caught Alison staring at the man as if fascinated, with a curious, intense look in her eyes the significance of which he could not fathom.

Then the pause was brought to an end by the captain. He shifted his position abruptly, so that he towered over Iff, scowling down upon him.

“That will do,” he said ominously. “I’m tired of this; say what you will, you haven’t hoodwinked me, and you shan’t.”

“My dear sir!” protested Iff in amazement. “Hoodwink you? Why, I’m merely trying to make you see – ”

“You’ve succeeded in making me see one thing clearly: that you know more about this robbery than you’ve any right to know.”

“Oh, you-all make me tired,” complained Iff. “Now you have just heard Miss Landis declare that this collar of pearls vanished between, say, five-thirty and five-forty-five. Well, I can prove by the testimony of three other passengers, and I don’t know how many more, to say nothing of your smoke-room stewards, that I was playing bridge from four until after six.”

“Ah, yes,” put in the purser sweetly, “but you yourself have just demonstrated conclusively that the robbery couldn’t have taken place at the hour mentioned.”

Iff grinned appreciatively. “You’re improving,” he said. “I guess that doesn’t get you even with me for the rest of your life – what?”

“Moreover,” Manvers went on doggedly, “Ismay always could prove a copper-riveted alibi.”

“That’s one of the best little things he does,” admitted Iff cheerfully.

“You don’t deny you’re Ismay?” This from the captain, aggressive and domineering.

“I don’t have to, dear sir; I just ain’t – that’s the answer.”

“You’ve been recognised,” insisted the captain. “You were on this ship the time of the Burden Hamman robbery. Mr. Manvers knows you by sight; I, too, recognise you.”

“Sorry,” murmured Iff – “so sorry, but you’re wrong. Case of mistaken identity, I give you my word.”