THE WORLD WAR COLLECTION OF H. C. MCNEILE (SAPPER). Sapper
thing to have talked intimately to a footman coming down in the train: it was quite different when he turned out to be a burglar. She ought to tell her aunt; she knew she ought to tell her. And yet somehow she felt strangely reluctant to do so. She didn't try to analyse why she felt reluctant; she would have indignantly scouted the idea that it was anything to do with a pair of lazy blue eyes and a mouth which was permanently twisted in a cheery grin. Of course not; nothing whatever to do with it. It was simply because her aunt would be sleepy, and anyway she wasn't quite certain of the way to her room. She was sure nothing would happen that night; burglars always wanted time to spy out their ground. And tomorrow, somehow or other, she'd speak to him: tell him that she knew everything and that unless he left the house at once she would tell Mr. Frosdick, and he would send for the police. Or perhaps she would ask Mr. Terrill in confidence what he advised her to do...
With which resolve firmly taken. Mavis Houghton fell asleep. And it seemed to her that there was no perceptible gap between her last waking thought of a large young man with blue eyes and the arrival of a scared-looking maid with her early morning tea.
"A terrible thing, miss," said the girl. "The rubies have been stolen."
"What?" Mavis sat up in bed, staring at her with dilated eyes.
"Stolen in the night, miss," went on the girl. "The police are here, and no one's allowed to leave the house."
Mavis lay back on her pillows; it seemed to her as if the maid would be able to read her thoughts, so plainly must they be showing on her face. From outside came the sound of men's voices; the whole household was evidently up and about.
"Have they found—do they suspect anyone?" she asked the girl, a little faintly.
"Not so far, miss. There's a window open downstairs, which Charles—he's the new footman, miss—is positive he shut last night."
"How was it discovered, Elsie?"
"The master, miss, was down early this morning. He was a-going to take them with him to London to have something done to one of the fastenings, and when he opened the safe they was gone."
She dismissed the girl, and began to dress feverishly. Now that the thing she dreaded had happened, she felt conscious of only one thought. She didn't care if it was right or wrong, but she felt she must give him a chance if she could. See him alone, make him return the stones, and if he did so, she would promise not to give him away. He could emigrate to Australia or something, and try to earn an honest living.
She went downstairs to find the Heavenly Twins disconsolately seated in the hall.
"We're not allowed to leave the house," remarked Janet, "and we want to go ratting."
"I've confessed twice that I took 'em," said her brother, "and the second time the large, strong, square-faced man in charge got quite huffy."
Mavis fumed as her uncle came out of the library. Somewhat naturally he was looking worried, and with him were Terrill and the gentleman just alluded to by Paul Wetherby.
"It's quite obvious, Mr. Frosdick," Terrill was saying, "that there is only one thing to be done—make a complete search of everyone's belongings in the house. We should all prefer it, and if the guests don't object, surely the servants won't. If nothing is found, we can more or less assume that it is an outside agency. Don't you agree, Inspector?"
The inspector nodded. "It can do no harm, Mr. Frosdick."
"I don't like it, I tell you," he said. "'I would no more dream, of suspecting any of my quests than I would myself, and as for the servants—why, they've been with me for years." He paused suddenly. "Good Heavens! I forgot. The footman! He only came yesterday." For a moment Mavis felt as if her heart had stopped beating. "He had splendid references." Her uncle was speaking again. "Came from Lord Ditchling. And he seems excellent at his job."
"References can be forged," remarked the Inspector drily.
"Anyway, Mr. Frosdick," put in Terrill, "no one is accusing the man as yet. He will be in the same boat with all of us."
"That's true," agreed his host.
"But I think it will do no harm to send a wire to Lord Ditchling, giving a description of the man," said the Inspector. "If, by any chance, we should find that he is not the servant referred to in the references, I should feel justified in arresting him, even if we find no trace of the rubies. And now would it be possible, Mr. Frosdick, to get everyone together in some room and tell them what we propose to do?"
"Well, if I must, I must. Though I don't like it."
With a smile, Mark Terrill had crossed to Mavis.
"An extraordinary coincidence, isn't it," he said, "that only last night we were talking of this very thing?"
"Do you think, Mr. Terrill," she said, "that this is one of the same series of robberies that you were telling me about? Done by the same man?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Impossible to tell. Miss Houghton. It looks rather like it. There's no trace of a finger-mark on the safe—not even a scratch, which shows, according to the Inspector, that it's the work of an expert. I've suggested to your uncle that there should be an exhaustive search of all our belongings, though, frankly, I fear that we shan't get much out of it. A criminal as clever as this one evidently is, doesn't leave his loot lying on the middle of the table."
"I heard you say something about the new footman," she said, and despite all her efforts, she felt that her voice shook a little. But apparently the man noticed nothing; he merely shrugged his shoulders once again.
"If the thing has been done by someone in the house; or if, as I think far more likely, it was done from outside by the help of a confederate in the house, it is only natural that the finger of suspicion should tend to point at a man who only arrived yesterday. Though, of course, it may be absolutely unfounded. I certainly hope so; he's a most excellent valet."
The search, as Mark Terrill had prophesied, produced nothing. When Mr. Frosdick had made his embarrassed little speech to the whole household, Mavis had kept on glancing at the footman. But no trace of guilt or fear had shown in his face; he had stood with the rest of the servants listening, so it had seemed to her, almost indifferently. And now it was all over; no trace of the rubies had been found. She was angry with herself at her feeling of relief; she was angry with herself that she should care one way or the other. But she knew that she hadn't expected them to be discovered in his possession; she felt he was far too clever for that. It was the answer to the telegram that she dreaded.
It came at three o'clock, and her uncle told the assembled house party the news.
"Afraid there's no doubt the new footman had a hand in it," he said gravely. "He doesn't tally in the slightest degree with Ditchling's description. The Inspector has gone off to get a warrant for his arrest."
So it was all over. She went upstairs to her room, feeling sick and miserable. If only he hadn't been so charming: if only—And then she saw him. He was in Mark Terrill's room tidying up, and the door was open.
For a moment she hesitated: then she made up her mind and went in. "They've gone for a warrant for your arrest," she said breathlessly. "Oh! go, go while there's time!"
He swung round and stared at her with a peculiar look in his eyes. "It's very sweet of you to warn me. Miss Houghton. You think I'm the burglar, do you?"
"Don't waste time," she implored. "I promise I won't say anything about meeting you in the train yesterday, and your—your being so different."
His mouth twisted into one of his lazy smiles. "I'm not a bit different," he said. "I'm just looking for the obvious. The trouble is that I can't find it."
She stared at him in amazement, as his keen, eager eyes went searching round the room. Assuredly, if this man were the thief his nerves must be of steel. And then suddenly on his face there dawned a look of suppressed excitement.
"What is it?" she cried.
He was staring at a row of cut-glass bottles which stood on Mark Terrill's dressing-table. There was hair lotion, and