The Black Mask Read Free

said, almost in a panic at her female incomprehension. “Dash it. He invented the St. George lapel. He bested the Prince Regent’s time to Brighton. He brought caramel au chocolat into fashion.”
    “Admirable as all his gifts may be,” Rose said, “I hardly think any of them qualify him to be privy to my private affairs.” She turned toward Mr. Crenshaw. “I beg your pardon, sir. If you would care to proceed?”
    For a moment, a gleam of a great and kindly intelligence appeared in Mr. Crenshaw’s eyes, twinkling at her from behind his rimless glasses. “I had a younger brother myself, Miss Spenser.”
    He cleared his throat and became the perfect lawyer. “This is the last will and testament of Mr. Gavelison MacElroy. ‘Being of sound mind and body, and with a due regard for the mercy of heaven which I pray to receive in my life hereafter, I declare this to be my final will...”
    Mr. Crenshaw read on in his thin voice. Rupert leaned forward, his hands dangling loosely between his knees as he concentrated on the involved sentences and legal language of the will. After a few minutes, however, the rolling sentences seemed to overwhelm him. He leaned back in his chair, adopting a more relaxed posture. His brown eyes, so like her own, became glazed as his jaw slackened. Soon he was yawning.
    Rose confessed she shared her brother’s confusion. Most of the will seemed to concern itself with individual bequests to servants and friends in India. She heard strange names and tried to picture, for example, what a statue of Lord Ganesha or Lord Hanuman must look like. She had no difficulty at all imagining her father’s reaction if a cartload of Indian curiosities arrived at Berling Manor and hoped her godfather had not left her any of his collection.
    Rupert’s head had begun to nod when the words, “and to my beloved goddaughter, Rose Redcliffe Spenser, I devise and bequeath” snapped his eyes open.
    “What’s that?”
    Mr. Crenshaw increased the volume of his mumble. “The sum of one hundred pounds and the jewel known as the Malikzadi.”
    “A jewel, b’Jove!” Rupert exclaimed, sitting bolt upright.
    “What does it mean, Mr. Crenshaw? Mal ... malikzadi?”
    “I believe it means queen, Miss Spenser. How the ruby came by that name, Mr. MacElroy did not divulge.”
    He reached out with his dry hand and twisted the key in the front of the sandalwood box. The lid opened slowly, as if by clockwork.
    Drawn forward without realizing it, Rose left her chair to peer into the velvet-lined depths. “Oh.”
    “Stand aside, old girl.” Rupert flipped the lid fully open with his thumb. “By George! Is that it?”
    Reaching in to grasp the contents, he suddenly pulled his fingers back. “I say!” he exclaimed, shaking his hand vigorously. “Something bit me!”
     

Chapter Two
     
    “Rupert!” Rose started forward, her heart like a cold lump in her breast.
    Rupert looked at his hand curiously, turning it palm up. “No, it’s all right. Not a mark on me. But I swear...”
    “Ah,” the attorney said, taking up the box. “I neglected to set the thief catcher back. Very clever device,” he added, twisting a small section of inlaid brass. “It seems the former owner liked to smear poison on a blade set into this little swinging arm. Should anyone attempt to steal the contents, the blade would cut the thief s hand.”
    “And you let my brother... Rupert, are you certain you’re not hurt?”
    “Devil a scratch, Rose. Don’t fuss. I’m sure the blade has been taken out. Hasn’t it, Mr. Crenshaw?”
    For a heart-stopping instant, Mr. Crenshaw crinkled his brow and studied the ceiling. “Oh, yes, certainly. That is ... yes, certainly. There’s nothing to fear. Come and see.”
    With some trepidation, Rose took the richly ornamented box in her hand. When she opened it fully, the sight within wiped away the memory of her brother’s near miss.
    Cut like a pyramid, the strawberry-red ruby jutted up from a nest of