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Updated: May 1, 2025
Whilst he was in the vestibule saying what he had to say to Mr. de la Molle and Ida, a man rung the bell, whom he recognised as one of Mr. Quest's clerks. He was shown in, and handed the Squire a fully-addressed brief envelope, which, he said, he had been told to deliver by Mr. Quest, and adding that there was no answer bowed himself out.
"That sort of secretary-valet of Mr. Quest's Ross Brown, I think he calls him is always on the spot." They waited for some time. There was still no answer to their summons. The Inspector placed his ear to the keyhole. There was not a sound to be heard. He drew back, a little puzzled. At that moment his attention was caught by the fluttering of a little piece of white material caught in the door.
Even the silence seemed charged with awful things. Then suddenly, without any warning, the picture faded completely away. A cry which was almost a howl of anger broke from Quest's lips. Craig had fallen sideways from his chair. There was an ominous change in his face. Something seemed to have passed from the atmosphere of the room, some tense and nameless quality.
A very ugly little revolver was pointed directly at Quest's heart. "My mate's got you covered on the other side of the road, too. Hands up, both of you, or we'll make a quick job of it." Quest shrugged his shoulders, threw his revolver into the road and obeyed. As he did so, the other man stole out from behind a bush and sprang for the chauffeur, who under cover of the car was stealing off.
"You must go and see it," the Professor insisted, keeping by Quest's side as the latter moved towards the automobile. "You must go and see it, Mr. Quest. It will be on view to the public next week, but in the meantime I will telephone to the curator. You must mention my name. You shall be permitted a special examination." "Very kind of you," Quest murmured.
There were no signs of life. The house still bore its customary appearance, gloomy and deserted. With a sigh of relief, she hailed a taxicab and sank back into the corner. She found Laura waiting for her, and a few minutes afterwards the two girls were examining the ashes with the aid of Quest's microscope. Among the little pile was one fragment at the sight of which they both exclaimed.
Kelter began a soft and soothing discourse which led nowhere at first but ended finally in a re-order for four hot Scotches. Then Dumont's witty French blood or the muddied dregs which were left of it began to be perversely amusing at Quest's expense.
They stepped into the little elevator, and a moment or two later Lenora was installed in an easy-chair in Quest's sitting-room, in front of a roaring fire. "Lean back and make yourself comfortable," Quest invited, as he took a chair opposite to her. "I must just look through these papers." The girl did as she was told. She opened her coat. The room was delightfully warm, almost overheated.
She took off the lid with trembling fingers, drew out a scrap of paper and read: "Fools! Tongues of flame will cross Quest's path. He will never reach the depot alive." Lenora glanced at Laura's empty bed. Then she staggered to the opening of the tent. "Laura!" she cried. There was no one there. The cowboys had all gone to their work, Laura had passed out of sight across the ridge in the distance.
Inspector!" "They were there," Quest declared, "when I left the house this morning. It seems probable," he added, "that the same person who is responsible for this double tragedy has also taken the jewels." The Inspector laid his hand heavily upon Quest's shoulder. "It does seem as though that might be so," he assented grimly. "You will kindly consider yourself under arrest, Quest.
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