"How long'll it take you?"
"An hour."
"All right," assented Haggerty. "Who's got th' suite across th' hall?"
he asked of the manager, as they left the prince.
"Lord Monckton. He and his valet left this morning for Bar Harbor.
Back Tuesday. A house-party of Fifth Avenue people."
"Uhuh." Haggerty tugged at his mustache. "I might look around in
there while I'm waiting for his Majesty t' change. Did y'ever hear th'
likes? Bug-house."
"But he pays a hundred the day, Haggerty. I'll let you privately into
Lord Monckton's suite. But you'll waste your time."
"Sure he left this morning?"
"I'll phone the office and make sure. . . . Lord Monckton left shortly
after midnight. His man followed early this morning. Lord Monckton
went by his host's yacht. But the man followed by rail."
"What's his man look like?"
"Slim and very dark, and very quiet."
"Well, I'll take a look."
The manager was right. Haggerty had his trouble for nothing. There
was no clue whatever in Lord Monckton's suite. There was no paper in
the waste-baskets, in the fireplace; the blotters on the writing-desk
were spotless. Some clothes were hanging in the closets, but these
revealed only their fashionable maker's name. In the reception-room,
on a table, a pack of cards lay spread out in an unfinished game of
solitaire. All the small baggage had been taken for the journey.
Truth to tell, Haggerty had not expected to find anything; he had not
cared to sit idly twiddling his thumbs while the Maharajah vacated his
rooms.
In the bathroom (Lord Monckton's) he found two objects which aroused
his silent derision: a bottle of brilliantine and an ointment made of
walnut-juice. Probably this Lord Monckton was a la-de-dah chap. Bah!
Once in the prince's vacated bedroom Haggerty went to work with classic
thoroughness. Not a square foot of the room escaped his vigilant eye.
The thief had not entered by the windows; he had come into the room by
the door which gave to the corridor. He stood on a chair and examined
the transom sill. The dust was undisturbed. He inspected the keyhole;
sniffed; stood up, bent and sniffed again. It was an odor totally
unknown to him. He stuffed the corner of his fresh handkerchief into
the keyhole, drew it out and sniffed that. Barely perceptible. He
wrapped the corner into the heart of the handkerchief, and put it back
into his pocket. Some powerful narcotic had been forced into the room
through the keyhole. This would account for the prince's headache.
These Orientals were as bad as the Dutch; they never opened their
windows for fresh air.
Beyond this faint, mysterious odor there was nothing else. The first
step would be to ascertain whether this narcotic was occidental or
oriental.