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"Such, a vague kind of person is capable of anything," I returned. "But there is no doubt that a search in her room was made, and it is significant that things were not tossed about anyhow, as one would expect had a stranger made that search." "True," said Quarles, "but if the maid took them there would have been no disarrangement at all. She would have known where to look.
We propose to go there to-morrow." "I was going down to-morrow after seeing the solicitors about this money," said Sir Michael. "That will be excellent," said Quarles. "You will be able to assist us in a little investigation we want to make at Whiteladies.
"Quite, sir." "It looks substantial and innocent." The only window which interested Quarles upstairs was that of a small room in the front of the house overlooking the drive, but, as the butler pointed out, no one could have got in there without a ladder. "No, no, I suppose not," and Quarles did not say another word until we saw Mr. Crosland again. Then he immediately inquired about the nephew.
"Besides the servants only five people slept in the house that night Lady Rusholm, her son, two elderly ladies cousins of Sir Grenville's who had come from Yorkshire for the funeral and a Mr. Thompson, a friend of the family who was staying in the house when Sir Grenville died." "Who closed the windows after the body was taken to the drawing-room?" asked Quarles. "One of the undertaker's men."
Within, that competent functionary, Deputy Sheriff Breck Quarles, sat at ease in his shirt sleeves, engaged, with the smaller blade of his pocketknife, in performing upon his finger nails an operation that combined the fine deftness of the manicure with the less delicate art of the farrier.
Likewise the events of that day were such as to confirm a majority of the observers in practically the same belief that had been voiced of Mr. Quarles namely, that whatever scanty brains Peep O'Day might have ever had were now completely addled by the stroke of luck that had befallen him.
I was inclined to agree with her, but in silence I went on looking through the notes I had made concerning the extraordinary case which must be solved quickly if the solution were to be of any benefit to the country. Quarles was also silent, continuing his work as an amateur cubist.
You didn't happen to know the real Parrish, I suppose?" "Of course not." "No, I didn't expect you would," said Quarles, "but tell me how it was you so promptly recognized the man we are after." "I am not sure it was the same man." "But you were when the boy recognized him." "I say now I am not sure." "Oh, but you are," returned Quarles. "You could not possibly be mistaken.
"Loosen his cravat, some one there; the gentleman is in fits." "Oh, Aunt Aunt Quarles, don't throttle me; I'll tell all all; let go, let go!" and the wretched man slowly recovered, as Ben Burke said, "Ay, my lord, ask him yourself, the little wretch can tell you all about it."
"It seems to me we come back to the French maid," said Zena. "We do," said Quarles. "That is the leather case, Wigan. Does it tell you anything?" I took it and examined it. "You seem to have got some grease on it, Professor." "It was like that. Greasy fingers had touched it recently, I judge although, of course, the case may be an old one, and not made especially for the earrings.
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