“The point is, then,” ruminated Kennedy, “what happened in the interval between the ringing of the alarm and the arrival of the special officers?  I think I’ll drop around and look Schloss’ place over,” he added quietly, evidently eager to begin at the actual scene of the crime.

On the door of the office to which McLear took us was one of those small blue plates which chance visitors to Maiden Lane must have seen often.  To the initiated—­be he crook or jeweler—­this simple sign means that the merchant is a member of the Jewelers’ Security Alliance, enough in itself, it would seem, to make the boldest burglar hesitate.  For it is the motto of this organization to “get” the thief at any cost and at any time.  Still, it had not deterred the burglar in this instance.

“I know people are going to think it is a fake burglary,” exclaimed Schloss, a stout, prosperous-looking gem broker, as we introduced ourselves.  “But over two hundred thousands dollars’ worth of stones are gone,” he half groaned.  “Think of it, man,” he added, “one of the greatest robberies since the Dead Line was established.  And if they can get away with it, why, no one down here is protected any more.  Half a billion dollars in jewels in Maiden Lane and John Street are easy prey for the cracksmen!”

Staggering though the loss must have been to him, he had apparently recovered from the first shock of the discovery and had begun the fight to get back what had been lost.

It was, as McLear had intimated, a most amazing burglary, too.  The door of Schloss’ safe was open when Kennedy and I arrived and found the excited jeweler nervously pacing the office.  Surrounding the safe, I noticed a wooden framework constructed in such a way as to be a part of the decorative scheme of the office.

Schloss banged the heavy doors shut.

“There, that’s just how it was—­shut as tight as a drum.  There was absolutely no mark of anyone tampering with the combination lock.  And yet the safe was looted!”

“How did you discover it?” asked Craig.  “I presume you carry burglary insurance?”

Schloss looked up quickly.  “That’s what I expected as a first question.  No, I carried very little insurance.  You see, I thought the safe, one of those new chrome steel affairs, was about impregnable.  I never lost a moment’s sleep over it; didn’t think it possible for anyone to get into it.  For, as you see, it is completely wired by the Hale Electric Protection—­that wooden framework about it.  No one could touch that when it was set without jangling a bell at the central office which would send men scurrying here to protect the place.”

“But they must have got past it,” suggested Kennedy.

“Yes—­they must have.  At least this morning I received the regular Hale report.  It said that their wires registered last night as though some one was tampering with the safe.  But by the time they got around, in less than five minutes, there was no one here, nothing seemed to be disturbed.  So they set it down to induction or electrolysis, or something the matter with the wires.  I got the report the first thing when I arrived here with my assistant, Muller.”