Average Jones by Samuel Hopkins Adams

Author:Samuel Hopkins Adams
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2022-04-11T00:00:00+00:00

“Nothing. Not a thing until I awoke and found myself on the fire-escape.”

“Awoke?” cried Kirby. “Were you asleep all the time?”

“Certainly. I’m a confirmed sleep-walker of the worst type. That’s why I go under an alias. That’s why I got the trick handcuff chain and chained myself up with it, until I found it drove me fighting crazy in my sleep when I couldn’t break away. That’s why I slept in my dressing-gown that night at the Denton. There was a red light in the hall outside, and any light, particularly a colored one, is likely to set me going. I probably dreamed I was escaping from a locomotive—that’s a common delusion of mine—and sought refuge in the first door that was open.”

“Wait a minute,” said Average Jones. “You—er—say that you are—er—peculiarly susceptible to—er—colored light.”

“Yes.”

“Mrs. Hale, was the table on which the necklace lay in line with any light outside?”

“I think probably with the direct ray of an electric globe shining through the farther window.”

“Then, Mr. Greene,” said Average Jones, “the glint of the fire-blue stones undoubtedly caught your eye. You seized on the necklace and carried it out on the fire-escape balcony, where the cool air or the milk-driver’s hail awakened you. Have you no recollection of seeing such a thing?”

“Not the faintest, unhappily.”

“Then he must have dropped it to the ground below,” said Kirby.

“I don’t think so,” controverted Jones slowly. “Mr. Greene must have been clinging to it tenaciously when it swung and caught against the railing, stripping off the three end stones. If the whole necklace had dropped it would have broken up fine, and more than three stones would have returned to us in reply to the advertisements. And in that case, too, the chances against the end stones alone returning, out of all the thirty-six, are too unlikely to be considered. No, the fire-blue necklace never fell to the ground.”

“It certainly didn’t remain on the balcony,” said Kirby. “It would have been discovered there.”

“Quite so,” assented Average Jones. “We’re getting at it by the process of exclusion. The necklace didn’t fall. It didn’t stay. Therefore?”—he looked inquiringly at Mrs. Hale.

“It returned,” she said quickly.

“With Mr. Greene,” added Average Jones.

“I tell you,” cried that gentleman vehemently, “I haven’t set eyes on the wretched thing.”

“Agreed,” returned Average Jones; “which doesn’t at all affect the point I wish to make. You may recall, Mr. Greene, that in my message I asked you to pack your suitcase exactly as it was when you left the hotel with it on the morning of August seventh.”

“I’ve done so with the exception of the conjurer’s chain, of course.”

“Including the dressing-gown you had on, that night, I assume. Have you worn it since?”

“No. It hung in my closet until yesterday, when I folded it to pack. You see, I—I’ve had to give up the road on account of my unhappy failing.”

“Then permit me.” Average Jones stooped to the dress-suit case, drew out the garment and thrust his hand into its one pocket. He turned to Mrs.

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