Theft

The art treasures of the Metropolitan Museum in Manhattan bristle with electric burglar alarms, glass cages, crime-proof locks, watchmen. So elaborate are the precautions taken that vandalism has been deemed impossible.

On a hot Monday night recently, the guard assigned to the miniature portraits room of the Metropolitan took sick, was sent home to recover. The next morning, it was discovered that a glass case had been jimmied, that six priceless portraits painted on ivory framed with diamond-studded gold had been niched. As usual, detectives were perplexed as to the motive of the crime. If the sneaks had coveted the miniatures for their $10,000 ivory, gold and diamond value, a search might profitably be conducted through the pawnshops. If the infinitely more valuable artistic qualities had been coveted, it must have been the work of highly skilled international crooks, for disposition of Metropolitan art treasures is of even greater difficulty than their theft. A fortunate twist was given the case, when two frames were found in two lower East Side pawnshops, where they had been deposited in exchange for $75 each. The other four are still missing, as are, unfortunately, the portraits themselves.

Detective Thomas Tunney, brother of champion Fisticuffer Gene Tunney, brought some comfort to perturbed police when he apprehended one Charles Colze, who, while employed in the Natural History Museum of Manhattan as porter, had carried off eight fine bird-of-paradise plumes.