Grant, Maxwell - The Shadow 327 - The Riddle of the Rangoon Ruby by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Detective, Mystery, Crime, Suspense, Adventure, Thriller
Publisher: Street & Smith Publications
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER V

Sheriff Blassingame, big, bold, and bluff, faced the solemn group in the living room of Mycroft Manor and came right to the point. First, he introduced Lamont Cranston as a man who had flown out to Hilldale with credentials from Police Commissioner Weston of New York City and been brought over in a car by his friend Harry Vincent, who had met him at the airfield. A deputy had stopped them near the mansion, and learning their mission, had brought them to meet the sheriff.

Cranston took it up from there, as he told the group:

“We have just learned that Carter Mycroft was the purchaser of the famous Rangoon Ruby, valued at six hundred thousand dollars. The pendant found on Mycroft’s desk is either the actual ruby or the only known replica of the famous gem.

“And the replica is worth a lot less,” put in the sheriff. “So whichever this is” - he dangled the pendant as he spoke - “it’s murder we’re dealing with; not suicide, like somebody fixed it to look. He was shot with his own gun from his desk drawer by somebody he trusted. So who was the last person to see him alive?”

Nobody wanted that distinction, as whoever admitted it might be automatically tabbed as murderer. So the sheriff took them one by one.

“You first,” he said to Cragmore. “You were Mycroft’s secretary, always going in and out of his study. Who could have seen Mycroft last, if you didn’t?”

“I wouldn’t know,” returned Cragmore nervously, “but I can tell you who did see him after I did. Tilson here” - he gestured to the chauffeur - “because Mr. Mycroft said to send him up to the study and I did.”

“I don’t go with that, Cragmore,” countered Tilson. “When I told you Mr. Mycroft wanted you to help me bring in the cabinets, I said you should go up and ask him yourself, to make sure.”

“Only I took your word for it,” argued Cragmore, “but I had some papers to gather, so I didn’t come out right away. But I didn’t go up to the study, either. I didn’t want to bother Mr. Mycroft.”

The sheriff turned to Brent Huling with the query:

“Was Cragmore here in the living room when you came in?”

“Why, no,” replied Huling. “He was out front, helping Tilson unload the cabinets. I suppose he could have gone up to the study, but so could I. Only I didn’t. I wanted a smoke, so I was looking for my pipe.”

Triumphantly, Blassingame brought the pipe from his pocket.

“Would this be it, Huling? We found it in Mycroft’s study.”

Only briefly, Huling’s self-assurance faded. Then:

“I stopped up to see Mycroft right after lunch,” he recalled. “Cragmore will confirm that fact.” Then, as Cragmore nodded, Huling added with full composure, “That’s when I must have left my pipe there.”

Before the sheriff could quiz Huling further, two deputies came in with a baldish, scared-looking man who was trying to stammer explanations.

“He says he drove out from New York to

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