About a fortnight afterwards my friend gave a small dinner to half a
dozen bachelor friends to celebrate his promotion. When his guests
were departing he pulled my sleeve and signalled to me that he wished
me to remain. "You have only a few hundred yards to go," said he--I was living in
chambers in the Albany. "You may as well stay and have a quiet cigar
with me. I very much want your advice." I relapsed into an arm-chair and lit one of his excellent Matronas. When he had returned from seeing the last of his guests out, he drew a
letter from his dress-jacket and sat down opposite to me. "This is an anonymous letter which I received this morning," said he. "I want to read it to you and to have your advice." "You are very welcome to it for what it is worth." "This is how the note runs:  'Sir,--I should strongly advise you to
keep a very careful watch over the many valuable things which are
committed to your charge. I do not think that the present system of a
single watchman is sufficient. Be upon your guard, or an irreparable
misfortune may occur.'" "Is that all?" "Yes, that is all." "Well," said I, "it is at least obvious that it was written by one of
the limited number of people who are aware that you have only one
watchman at night." Ward Mortimer handed me the note, with a curious smile. "Have you an
eye for handwriting?" said he. "Now, look at this!" He put another
letter in front of me. "Look at the c in 'congratulate' and the c in
'committed.' Look at the capital I. Look at the trick of putting in a
dash instead of a stop!" "They are undoubtedly from the same hand--with some attempt at disguise
in the case of this first one." "The second," said Ward Mortimer, "is the letter of congratulation
which was written to me by Professor Andreas upon my obtaining my
appointment." I stared at him in amazement. Then I turned over the letter in my
hand, and there, sure enough, was "Martin Andreas" signed upon the
other side. There could be no doubt, in the mind of anyone who had the
slightest knowledge of the science of graphology, that the Professor
had written an anonymous letter, warning his successor against thieves. It was inexplicable, but it was certain. "Why should he do it?" I asked. "Precisely what I should wish to ask you. If he had any such
misgivings, why could he not come and tell me direct?" "Will you speak to him about it?" "There again I am in doubt. He might choose to deny that he wrote it." "At any rate," said I, "this warning is meant in a friendly spirit, and
I should certainly act upon it. Are the present precautions enough to
insure you against robbery?" "I should have thought so. The public are only admitted from ten till
five, and there is a guardian to every two rooms. He stands at the
door between them, and so commands them both." "But at night?" "When the public are gone, we at once put up the great iron shutters,
which are absolutely burglar-proof. The watchman is a capable fellow. He sits in the lodge, but he walks round every three hours. We keep
one electric light burning in each room all night." "It is difficult to suggest anything more--short of keeping your day
watches all night." "We could not afford that." "At least, I should communicate with the police, and have a special
constable put on outside in Belmore Street," said I. "As to the
letter, if the writer wishes to be anonymous, I think he has a right to
remain so. We must trust to the future to show some reason for the
curious course which he has adopted." So we dismissed the subject, but all that night after my return to my
chambers I was puzzling my brain as to what possible motive Professor
Andreas could have for writing an anonymous warning letter to his
successor--for that the writing was his was as certain to me as if I
had seen him actually doing it. He foresaw some danger to the
collection. Was it because he foresaw it that he abandoned his charge
of it? But if so, why should he hesitate to warn Mortimer in his own
name? I puzzled and puzzled until at last I fell into a troubled
sleep, which carried me beyond my usual hour of rising. I was aroused in a singular and effective method, for about nine
o'clock my friend Mortimer rushed into my room with an expression of
consternation upon his face. He was usually one of the most tidy men
of my acquaintance, but now his collar was undone at one end, his tie
was flying, and his hat at the back of his head. I read his whole
story in his frantic eyes. "The museum has been robbed!" I cried, springing up in bed. "I fear so! Those jewels! The jewels of the urim and thummim!" he
gasped, for he was out of breath with running. "I'm going on to the
police-station. Come to the museum as soon as you can, Jackson! Good-bye!" He rushed distractedly out of the room, and I heard him
clatter down the stairs. I was not long in following his directions, but I found when I arrived
that he had already returned with a police inspector, and another
elderly gentleman, who proved to be Mr. Purvis, one of the partners of
Morson and Company, the well-known diamond merchants. As an expert in
stones he was always prepared to advise the police. They were grouped
round the case in which the breastplate of the Jewish priest had been
exposed. The plate had been taken out and laid upon the glass top of
the case, and the three heads were bent over it. "It is obvious that it has been tampered with," said Mortimer. "It
caught my eye the moment that I passed through the room this morning. I examined it yesterday evening, so that it is certain that this has
happened during the night." It was, as he had said, obvious that someone had been at work upon it. The settings of the uppermost row of four stones--the carnelian,
peridot, emerald, and ruby--were rough and jagged as if someone had
scraped all round them. The stones were in their places, but the
beautiful gold-work which we had admired only a few days before had
been very clumsily pulled about. "It looks to me," said the police inspector, "as if someone had been
trying to take out the stones." "My fear is," said Mortimer, "that he not only tried, but succeeded. I
believe these four stones to be skilful imitations which have been put
in the place of the originals." The same suspicion had evidently been in the mind of the expert, for he
had been carefully examining the four stones with the aid of a lens. He now submitted them to several tests, and finally turned cheerfully
to Mortimer. "I congratulate you, sir," said he, heartily. "I will pledge my
reputation that all four of these stones are genuine, and of a most
unusual degree of purity." The colour began to come back to my poor friend's frightened face, and
he drew a long breath of relief. "Thank God!" he cried. "Then what in the world did the thief want?" "Probably he meant to take the stones, but was interrupted." "In that case one would expect him to take them out one at a time, but
the setting of each of these has been loosened, and yet the stones are
all here."