"Phew! Sounds interesting. Where does it begin?"
"It began for me," returned the Superintendent, grimly, "at one o'clock this morning, in Soho, when I was dragged out of bed to investigate a murder. It had evidently been committed within an hour of its discovery, for the body was still warm. It was, to all appearances, that of a Hindu; but subsequent examination showed it to be a man of European birth, French, probably. Funny thing about him was the colour of his eyes. One was black and the other brown. As for the Hindu part of it, he was as white as a man could be save for his stained face and hands. There were no means of identification, so I had to let the case slide. I don't say it has anything to do with the present case; still, the details are so strange:——"
"What is this case?" asked Cleek, abruptly. "Forgery, swindling, robbery?"
"Worse," returned the Superintendent. "It's murder—cunning, almost supernatural. Perpetrated by some diabolical means in the dark without any apparent cause. Three people, all inhabitants of the same house, have died within a year, and in spite of the fact that the subsequent autopsy has pointed to a case of heart failure, and there is not the least trace of any wound or blemish, yet each one who has been done to death would appear to have died just as that Syrian priest swore that whoever attempted to touch the stone should die—accursed, in darkness, and alone."
"What's that?" said Cleek, sitting up sharply. "A Syrian priest, a stone—by that, I presume, a precious stone of some sort—and three mysterious deaths! A regular melodrama! Let us have the details, please. What is this stone, and to whom does it belong?"
"Sir Thomas Montelet was the first European owner. I dare say you have heard of him; he is, or rather was, a noted collector of Oriental objets d'art, and I remember I had to lend him official protection some years ago, on the occasion of his moving his treasures to the country house to which we are now going."
"And it is this man who has been murdered?"
"No. Sir Thomas died peacefully in his bed. I rather fancy, though, you were in Paris during the case of that Red Crawl business. No, it is his widow, Lady Montelet, who is the latest and most important victim."
"Why most important?" asked Cleek, a note of irritation in his voice. "Are not all lives equal in the sight of the law?"
"True enough, my dear fellow, but by the good lady's death the British Government will inherit many valuable Eastern jewels, bequeathed by Sir Thomas in his will, and amongst them is this very jewel which has now been stolen—a yellow, reddish stone, known as a fire opal."