"Every morning the charwoman who cleaned the steps outside the block of flats in George Street would see Ruggles come out of the house and walk away in the direction of Sackville Street. Even on Sundays he would stroll round as far as the shop to see that everything was all right.
"It was on a snowy morning in January that the charwoman failed to see Ruggles at his accustomed time. As the quiet neighbourhood did not as a rule lend itself much to gossip, the present opportunity was not to be missed. The charwoman, on meeting with the lift-boy, imparted to him the priceless news that Mr. Ruggles must either be ill or had gone and overslept himself. Whereupon the lift-boy was ready with the startling information that he had just observed that one of the glass panels in the front door of Sir James Narford's flat was broken. 'The glass wasn't broke in the evening, ten-thirty,' he went on to say, 'when I took a party down who'd been visitin' Miss Jenkins.'
"It seems that Miss Jenkins was maid to a lady who had a flat on the same floor as Sir James Narford. But there was the length of a passage with staircase and lift between the two flats, and neither the lady nor the maid, when spoken to by the lift-boy about the broken glass panel, had heard anything during the night. Now all this seemed very strange, more especially as the morning hours wore on and there was still no sign of Mr. Ruggles. The lift-boy was kept busy for the next hour taking the staff of the service flats up and down in his lift, as every one wished to have a look at the broken panel, and wanted to add their quota of opinion as to what had gone on last night in Sir James Narford's flat. At ten o'clock the housekeeper, more responsible or more enterprising than the rest of the staff, resolved to knock at the flat door. No answer came. She then tried to peep through the broken glass panel, and to apply her ear to it. For a time all was silence. The charwoman, the lift-boy, the scullery-maid, and the head housemaid stood by on the landing, holding their breath. Suddenly they all gave a simultaneous gasp! A groan—distinctly a groan—was heard issuing from inside the flat! The group of watchers looked at one another in dismay. 'What's to be done?' they murmured.
"The lift-boy had the key of the flat, but as the front door was bolted on the inside, the key in itself was no use. The housekeeper with the air of a general in command about to order a deathly charge, said resolutely, 'I shall force my way in!' And it was the lift-boy who gasped, awe-stricken, 'You kin put your 'and through the broken panel, mum, and pull the bolt.'
"Somehow this bright idea which had occurred to the lift-boy made every one there feel still more uncomfortable. The housekeeper, who had been so bold a while ago, stammered something about fetching the police, and when at that precise moment the lift-bell rang, the head housemaid declared herself ready to faint. But it was only Sir James Narford who had rung for the lift from below. He had arrived by the night mail from Paris, and had only his small suit-case with him. The lift-boy had the satisfaction of being the first to impart the exciting news to him. ''E took it badly, 'e did!' was that young gentleman's comment on Sir James's reception of the news. Without taking the slightest notice of the group of excited women on the landing, Sir James went straight to his front door, thrust his hand through the broken panel, drew back the inside bolt, and stepped into his flat. The next moment the agitated crowd on the landing heard him cry out, 'My God, Ruggles, what has happened?' A feeble voice which was scarcely recognisable as that of Ruggles was then heard talking in short, jerky sentences, and a few moments later Sir James's voice could be distinctly heard speaking on the telephone.
"'He is telephoning for the police,' the housekeeper solemnly announced to the staff.
"Well," the Old Man in the Corner continued after a while, "let me shorten my tale by telling you briefly the story which Ruggles told the police. It did not amount to a great deal, but such as it was it revealed a degree of cunning and of daring in the ways of burglary that have seldom been equalled. Ruggles, it seems, had as usual put away the gems in the safe and locked up the premises in Sackville Street and then walked home to the flat, very glad, he declared, that his responsibility would cease before another day went by, as he expected Sir James home from abroad the following morning. He had his supper as usual, but when he settled down to read his paper, he felt so sleepy that he just went and bolted the front door, placed the keys underneath his pillow, and went straight to bed. He remembered nothing more until he felt himself roughly shaken and heard his master's voice calling to him. It took him some time to collect himself; he felt dazed and his head ached terribly. When Sir James told him that it was past ten o'clock he could not conceive how he could have overslept himself in this way. Through force of habit he put his hand under his pillow to grope for the keys. They had gone! Then Sir James telephoned to the police. That was all that Ruggles could say. His condition was pitiable; alternately bemoaning his fate and cursing himself for a fool, he knelt at his master's feet and with hands clasped begged for forgiveness.
"'I'd have done anything in the world for Sir James,' he kept reiterating to the police officer, 'and 'ere I've been the ruin of 'im, just through over-sleepin'.'
"The police inspector got quite impatient with him, and at one time, I think, he thought that the man was acting a part. But Sir James Narford himself indignantly repudiated any suggestion of the sort. 'I would trust Ruggles,' he said emphatically, 'as I would myself. I have known him for thirty years, and he was in my father's service before that. I trust him with my keys, with money, with everything. He would have plenty of opportunity to rob me comfortably if he had a mind. What would a man of his class do with valuable gems?'
"All the same I fancy that the police did not altogether lose sight of the possibility that Ruggles might know something about the affair, but in spite of very clever questioning and cross-questioning, his story never varied even in the minutest detail. All that he added to his original statement that was of any value was the description of a foreign visitor at Sackville Street whom, in his own words, he 'didn't like the looks of.' This was a youngish man, with very sallow complexion, jet-black hair and moustache, and wearing a peculiar-looking caped overcoat and black soft hat with a very wide brim, who had remained over half an hour in the shop, apparently deeply interested in the gems. At one time he asked Ruggles whether he might have the glass cases opened, so that he could examine the stones and pearls more closely. This request Ruggles very naturally refused. The young man then put a lot of questions to him: 'Where did the gems come from? What was their value? Were they insured? Where were they kept at night? Was the safe burglar-proof or only fireproof?' and so on.