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Updated: May 2, 2025
On the top were a few lines of writing and beneath them the signature of the parted hands. He read the form out slowly: "Drop all investigation. The hands that return these jewels command it." Quest raised the cotton-wool. Beneath lay Mrs. Rheinholdt's necklace! Sanford Quest was smoking his after breakfast cigar with a relish somewhat affected by the measure of his perplexities.
"I was in hopes, in great hopes," the Professor admitted, "that you might have heard something. I promised to call at Mrs. Rheinholdt's this afternoon." Quest shook his head. "There is nothing to report at present, Mr. Ashleigh," he announced. "Dear me," the Professor murmured, "this is very disappointing. Is there no clue, Mr. Quest no clue at all?" "Not the ghost of one," Quest acknowledged.
Together they read in great black type The windows of Mrs. Rheinholdt's town house were ablaze with light. A crimson drugget stretched down the steps to the curbstone. A long row of automobiles stood waiting. Through the wide-flung doors was visible a pleasant impression of flowers and light and luxury. In the nearer of the two large reception rooms Mrs.
The Professor's face was almost touching the glass case in which reposed the green beetle with yellow spots. Mrs. Rheinholdt's reception, notwithstanding the temporary absence of its presiding spirit, was without doubt an unqualified success. In one of the distant rooms the younger people were dancing.
"Try and persuade him to loan us the gang's hand-car to go down the line. Lenora and I will come on in the automobile." "Take you longer," Lenora remarked, as she moved off to put on her jacket. "The cars do it in half an hour." "Can't help that," Quest replied. "Mrs. Rheinholdt's coming here to identify her jewels at twelve o'clock, and I can't run any risk of there being no train back.
The brain that planned the two murders here, that stole and restored Mrs. Rheinholdt's jewels, that sends us those little billets-doux from time to time, is quite capable of finding a way out of a jerry-built garage." The Professor sniffed. He turned once more to Lenora. "Young lady," he said, "I will ask you this.
Every one's talking about him and his work in South America." "He hates receptions," the boy replied, "but he promised he'd come. I never thought, when he used to drill science into us at the lectures, that he was going to be such a tremendous big pot." Mrs. Rheinholdt's plump fingers toyed for a moment complacently with the diamonds which hung from her neck.
"Pitted against the inherited cunning of the ages, you have no chance. I will take compassion upon you. Look in the right-hand drawer of your desk." Underneath appeared the signature of the Hands. Quest moved like a dream to his cabinet and pulled open the right-hand drawer. He turned around and faced the other two men. In his hand was Mrs. Rheinholdt's necklace!
"I am as far from solving the mystery of the disappearance of your skeleton and Mrs. Rheinholdt's necklace, as I have ever been." The Professor failed entirely to conceal his disappointment. His tone, in fact, was almost peevish. "I should have expected this from the regular officials of the law, Mr. Quest," he admitted, "but I must say that in your hands I had hoped but there, there! Excuse me!
"Mrs. Rheinholdt's jewels!" Lenora cried. "What next? Oh! my God, what next?" Their eyes ached with the strain but there was not one of them who could even glance away from the mirror. It was Quest's study which slowly appeared then. The Salvation Army girl was there, talking to the Professor. They saw him leave her, they saw him look back from the door, a strange, evil glance.
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