“Incredible,” said little Abe Goldman, short, paunchy, unemotional.

  “Be careful with that cake, sergeant,” warned Lester Leith in a drawling tone of calm superiority. “It’s a birthday gift.”

  “Yeah! You would want me to be careful! Well, look at this!”

  And he took a knife from his pocket, opened the small blade, probed into the cake as a physician might probe a wound.

  The knife blade grated. Sergeant Ackley’s wrist twisted, and a glittering string of scintillating gems came into the light, a trifle smeared with moist cake, but sending their sparkling coruscations glittering through the somber room. “Identify them!” yelled Sergeant Ackley in triumph.

  The clerk leaned forward. “Those are the ones. The price-tag’s still on them.”

  Sergeant Ackley set down the knife with its pendant string of glittering gems. Slowly, deliberately, conscious that the eyes of every person in the room were upon him, he pulled handcuffs from his hip pocket.

  “Along, long time I’ve waited for this moment,” he said. “I pray that you resist me, you damn, drawling, sneering, dirty doublecrossing crook!”

  “Tut, tut, sergeant. There are ladies present, and aren’t you getting just a bit premature?”

  Sergeant Ackley shifted the handcuffs to his left hand. His right hand bunched into a fist. His gloating eyes fastened in malevolent hatred upon Lester Leith’s finely chiseled features. Abe Goldman took the cigar from his mouth. “None of that. Not in here. Farley, are you absolutely sure of that necklace?”

  The clerk nodded. “It’s the one.”

  “What one?”

  “The one he stole.”

  Goldman sighed. His shrewd mind grasped that here was something that was not what it seemed on the surface.

  Lester Leith turned toward the clerk.

  “The one I what?”

  “Stole!” snapped the clerk.

  “Tut, tut,” cautioned Lester Leith, “you’ve got your verbs mixed, my man. That necklace was the one I bought.”

  And the clerk, suddenly reminded, jumped a foot, let his jaw sag while his eyes widened until they were about to drop from their sockets.

  Sergeant Ackley’s right fist slowly opened. The left hand with its glittering handcuffs dropped to his side.

  “Bought!” said Abe Goldman. “How’s that, Farley?”

  The clerk nodded, tried to speak, failed, gulped again.

  “My God, he’s right! It is the one he bought!” Goldman’s eyes suddenly became hard as agates. “Then why did you accuse him of theft?”

  The clerk leveled a trembling forefinger at Sergeant Arthur Ackley.

  “The cop. He came in here and described this chap, said he’d come in and lift a necklace from me. He came in and bought two necklaces. Then there was excitement, and he dropped a glass necklace on the counter, mixed it in with the others. I had my attention on the girl. I looked back at the counter, saw the glass, remembered what the officer had told me. and—and —well —”

  Abe Goldman shifted his glance toward Sergeant Ackley. “There may be a damage suit in this,” he said dryly.

  Sergeant Ackley’s face suffused with color. He twisted the moist cigar in nerveless lips, lips that trembled. Abe Goldman was in right with the city administration.

  “But why,” demanded Sergeant Ackley, in a voice that was but a feeble echo of his usual booming tones of rasping authority, “did this guy stick that necklace in the cake and drop another fake necklace on the counter?”

  Goldman’s eyes shifted to Lester Leith’s, stared hard at him for a full minute. “That’s what a judge would want to know, if you started a damage suit against us for false accusation,” he said.

  Lester Leith’s face was a mask of pained surprise. “Dear, dear,” he said. “I never thought of that. But it’s the most simple explanation in the world, gentlemen. You see, this is Miss Jean Rayon’s birthday. I wanted to surprise her with the gift of a diamond necklace, and I wanted the surprise to be genuine.

  “So I pretended I was going to come here and try to steal a necklace. I even made her think so. And I made my butler and valet, a chap I call Scuttle, think so. I even made a trifling wager with Scuttle.

  “I intended to buy the necklace, stick it in the cake when nobody was looking and then have the clerk wrap up the glass necklace for me. Of course, Miss Rayon would know that the necklace I was having wrapped up was glass, and she’d be completely mystified. Then when I parted company with her, I was going to say: ‘Jean, you take the cake/ and I was going to give her the cake. Then she’d find the diamond necklace in it when she came to eat it. I even thought we’d have a little party in my apartment and I would serve her the piece that had the diamond necklace in it.

  “It was a most tasty little surprise, and now you sleuths have ruined it!”

  Abe Goldman sighed.

  “That,” he remarked judicially, “is a damned lie. But you look just goofy enough so some fool jury might believe it!”

  Lester Leith became haughty. “I am afraid I care to have no business dealings with your house, sir. Will you please instruct your man to return my twenty thousand dollars? My attorney will continue this discussion.”

  Abe Goldman chewed the cigar. “There’s more to this than appears on the surface,” he muttered.

  “There will be,” promised Lester Leith.

  Jean Rayon held out her sticky, soiled dress. “And how about poor little me?” she shrilled.

  Abe Goldman looked, sighed, looked again. Lester Leith extended a protecting arm.

  “Not here,” he said. “We will go directly to my apartment to change. Mr. Goldman, will you please compensate in some measure for the damage done us by calling a cab?”

  Goldman sighed, jerked a thumb toward the special duty officer.

  “Get’m a cab, Bob. Just the same, mister, I’ll fight any suit for damage you bring. The whole thing smacks too much of a frame-up. I won’t pay a plugged nickel for compromise!”

  Lester Leith shrugged.

  “I had hardly intended to commercialize the incident, but I did intend to exact an apology to the young lady, and, perhaps, a new costume for her.”

  Abe Goldman’s eye lit. “That all you want?”

  “That’s all I want.”

  Goldman’s hand shot out.

  “Damned if I don’t believe you. Leith. I apologize, Miss Rayon, you’ll find a credit slip mailed you, care of Mr. Leith, at the best shop in town for the most expensive outfit in the place.”

  And he broke off as twin arms snapped around his neck, drew the paunchy face toward half parted red lips.

  “You dear" she exclaimed.

  Five seconds later Leith coughed apologetically. “Air?” he asked.

  Goldman jerked his red countenance away, suddenly embarrassed. “Bob, where the hell’s that cab?”

  “In front, sir.”

  Sergeant Ackley, moving on rubber heels had sneaked toward the door.

  “No, you don’t!” yelled Abe Goldman. “I’ve got something to take up with you! Farley, give this man back his money, see him into his cab. Sergeant, you sit down. I’m going to talk to you.”

  Lester Leith bowed suavely. “Ah, good day, gentlemen, and — Jean, you take the cake!”

  They entered the cab, Lester Leith carefully counting the twenty thousand dollars. Just before the special duty officer slammed the door, Lester Leith thrust out a detaining hand.

  “My glass necklace,” he said. “They’ve forgotten that.”

  And the officer trotted into the store, returned with the crude glass gewgaw. Lester Leith took it, smiled his thanks. The cab door slammed, the vehicle lurched forward and moved away. Within a few blocks he ordered the driver to halt, and, excusing himself to the girl, sauntered around a corner into a bank, where he obtained access to a safe deposit box listed under a name that neither Scuttle nor Sergeant Ackley would have recognized.

  CHAPTER VIII

  Ackley Has an Inning

  The valet stared at the bedraggled form of the girl, her dress and stockings smeared with the remnants of a lemon pie.

  Lester Leith, in the doorway, snapped the man’s attention back to earth.

  “Scuttle, Miss Rayon has met with an accident. It’s impossible to get her accurately fitted, but we have here a ready-made dress we’ve picked up, also some stockings and shoes. Will you kindly draw a bath and lay these things out for Miss Rayon?”

  The police spy glanced his dumb amazement, then nodded.

  “And may I caution you,” remarked Lester Leith in his dry voice, “that Miss Rayon has been acting a part. In reality. Scuttle, when she’s not in character, she’s a very modest and very estimable young lady of unimpeachable character.”

  The valet gulped, nodded. “This way, ma’am.”

  The girl followed him. Her soiled skirt was lifted in her hand. Her red lips parted in a smile of good-natured recognition of the spectacle she made.

  There was the sound of running water, the murmur of voices, and the valet oozed his bulk back into the room. “I wonder—” he began.

  The words clipped off as the door banged open. Without the formality of knocking, Sergeant Ackley slammed his way into the room. His face was livid, his lips writhing in an ecstasy of rage.

  “Tut, tut, my dear sergeant,” remonstrated Lester Leith. “You grow more and more intolerant of my rights. You usually go through the formality of knocking. Scuttle, the night latch please. Let’s have no more heavy-fisted policemen walking in upon us.”

  Sergeant Ackley stopped the pseudo-valet with a gesture. “Cripely’s confessed!” he snapped.

  “Indeed?” Lester Leith’s tone was a combination of superior condescension and mild exasperation.

  “Yes, damn you, indeed! He confessed while I was at Goldman’s and they telephoned the confession to me there!”

  Lester Leith reached for a cigarette, lit it, flung himself into a chair.

  “Indeed?” he asked again, his voice masked in utter unconcern.

  The police spy, masquerading as a valet, caught the significant look in Sergeant Ackley’s eye, and moved closer.

  “Yes,” rasped Sergeant Ackley, “and he told the whole scheme. He went to the store with his woman companion. The episode of the alarm clock served to distract attention for a second. That was all the time he needed.”

  Sergeant Ackley paused.

  Lester Leith blew a smoke ring.

  “George Cripely had been a wood joiner at one time. When he knew he was to be discharged he became bitter in his resentment and resolved to get even. So he put in his spare moments when no one else was about in working over the wood molding on the corner of the diamond showcase. He hinged a section some five inches long, hollowed it out, fixed it so it would flip back and forth by a gentle pressure, and he joined the wood so cleverly it was almost impossible to detect the flaw.”

  Lester Leith blew another smoke ring, traced the whirling perimeter with the tip of a well-manicured forefinger.

  “Really, sergeant,” he drawled, “if you came here in such excited haste just to tell me this, your efforts have been in vain. I deduced as much as soon as I read the newspaper account of the crime. It was obvious—particularly when I knew the man had two weeks’ notice of his discharge.

  “If he hadn’t arranged some clever hiding place he’d have had the imitation necklace—one that would have fooled the clerk until after he and his companion had left the store. As it was, he wanted the theft to be discovered in time to be thoroughly searched before he had left the place. Under the circumstances, there was only one deduction.”

  Sergeant Ackley rasped an oath.

  “Of course, you knew it, and you went to the store with this elaborate stage setting of yours. And while you were buying the necklace, you fooled around until you found the section of the counter that had been tampered with.”

  CHAPTER IX

  Scuttle Gets Slapped

  Lester Leith stifled a yawn with a courteous palm. “Indeed?”

  “You’re damn right, indeed. They telephoned me from headquarters when Cripely confessed, and I went to the counter myself. I found the place, but the necklace was gone!”

  Lester Leith tried sending a small smoke ring through a large smoke ring. Sergeant Ackley’s face was a purple mask of wrath.

  “And so you played it damned slick. You were careful to ask if you could buy any two necklaces on the counter for twenty thousand dollars. Then you put up the twenty thousand.

  “Where you fooled us was when you stuck your hand into the cake. You put in two necklaces. One of the ones the clerk had been showing you, and the other the one Cripely had hidden, and you were damned careful to have the Cripely necklace down underneath the one you’d been looking at.

  “If nobody had tumbled to the hiding place you’d have walked out with both necklaces and later demanded your twenty thousand dollars back.

  “If anyone had tumbled to the place where the missing necklace was as I did—you had a perfect defense—you’d bought it. And if I’d had sense enough to probe down and find the second necklace, you even had a defense for that. It was on the counter, and you’d purchased it.

  “It was one of those damned crimes where you had a perfect defense all the way through—”

  Sergeant Ackley broke off, leveled an accusing forefinger. “Lester Leith, where’s that cake?”

  Lester Leith shrugged his shoulders. “Miss Rayon took it.”

  Sergeant Ackley glanced at Scuttle. “It’s in the paper bag,” he prompted.

  Scuttle nodded. He oozed his bulk through the bedroom door. From the bathroom beyond could be heard the splashing of water.

  Lester Leith smoked in contemplative silence. The pseudo-valet returned with the paper bag. “She carried it in,” he muttered.

  Sergeant Ackley pulled out the cake, thrust a forefinger into the hole which remained plainly visible in the frosting. For a second a look of startled, fierce incredulity suffused his features, then he gave an exclamation of joy.

  “Trapped, by God! I thought, of course, they’d ditched it!”

  And his grimy forefinger pulled to light a cake-covered bit of glittering jewelry.

  “Trapped!” he yelled. “Run to earth!”

  Lester Leith moved no muscle. He remained in his chair, calm, relaxed, the smoke eddying up from the end of his cigarette.

  “By God, this is the time I’ve outsmarted him!” yelled Sergeant Ackley. “Get the handcuffs. Get the girl. Get the wagon. Get the plain-clothes men up from below. Get Goldman on the phone. By God, I’ll show-”

  His voice trailed off into silence. The wind whooshed from his lungs as though someone had smashed him in the stomach.

  Lester Leith sighed, moved the end of the cigarette to lips that were parted in a half smile.

  “The damn thing’s glass!” exclaimed Sergeant Ackley.

  “Quite so. sergeant.” soothed Lester Leith. “You’ll remember I sent back for my glass necklace. I really couldn’t think of a better place to put it than to drop it into the hole in the cake. Sorry you were fooled, sergeant. Better luck next time, eh?”

  Sergeant Ackley muttered an oath.

  “You put it there just to tantalize me some more, you damn, drawling, sneering, smoke-ring-blowing crook!”

  He drew back his arm, held the cake poised for a moment, then dashed it into the fireplace. The cake shattered against the sooty wall, dropped to the hearth. Lester Leith never moved.

  “Scuttle,” he said, “you’ll have another mess to clean up. The sergeant’s lost his temper again.”

  There was no answer.

  Lester Leith half turned in his chair. “Scuttle, where’s Scuttle?”

  There showed only the half open door into the bedroom. There was now no sound of splashing water. “What the devil?” drawled Lester.

  There was the sound of bare feet, the smack of a blow that sounded explosively loud. Scuttle oozed from the half-opened door with sudden speed. Upon his left cheek were stamped the livid marks of four fingers, the unmistakable imprint of a woman’s hand, swung in a terrific slap.

  Lester Leith laughed. “I told you, Scuttle, that Miss Rayon, when out of character, was a very estimable young lady of unimpeachable morals.”

  And then Lester Leith turned lazy-lidded eyes to the glowering sergeant.

  “You know, sergeant. Jean is a very remarkable girl. You have to hand it to her, sergeant, she takes the cake!”

  There was an oath, the banging of a door.

  Lester Leith was alone. Sergeant Ackley had stormed through the front door in a rage. The humiliated, crestfallen police spy who posed as valet, had oozed through the door into the kitchenette.

  “Under the circumstances,” mused Lester Leith. “I think Scuttle will concede the bet.”

  And he blew a smoke ring, traced the whirling edge of the curling smoke with the tip of a delicate forefinger.

  His chuckle was plainly audible to the mystified police stenographers who waited, two floors below, taking down the sounds that came to them over the telltale wires of the dictograph.

  The police might suspect what they pleased, but there could be no conviction unless they actually found the stolen necklace in Leith’s possession. Without corroborating circumstances they dared not even make a formal accusation. They had only the word of a self-confessed crook that the necklace had ever been placed in that counter with its concealed hiding place in the molding. And any one of half a hundred men might have removed that necklace, the janitor, the clerk, even Sergeant Ackley himself.

  Thieves’ Kitchen

  CHAPTER I

  Fifty Thousand in Diamonds

  Lester Leith, his well-knit form arrayed in faultless evening garb, drew on his gloves, and surveyed the police spy who masqueraded as his valet,. with eyes that were clouded in thoughtful speculation.

  “Not more than ten minutes, Scuttle?” asked Lester Leith.

  “No, sir. Ten minutes will suffice, sir, and I can assure you that it’s most unusual.”

  Lester Leith glanced at his wrist watch. “But, Scuttle, I’ve repeatedly told you that I’m no longer interested in crimes. I collected crime clippings on unusual cases for a while, it’s true; but I did it merely to satisfy a private curiosity. It afforded me a certain intellectual stimulus, Scuttle.