"The great criminologist," the Professor explained eagerly. "Certainly!
Why do you hesitate?"
"I was wondering, sir," Craig began.
The Professor waved his servant on one side.
"Do as you are told," he ordered. "Do as you are told, Craig. You
others--you do not realise. You cannot understand what this means. Tell
the taxi man to drive to the museum. I am overcome."
The taxicab man drove off, glad enough to have a return fare. In about
half-an-hour's time the Professor strode up the steps of the museum and
hurried into the office. There was a little crowd of officials there whom
the curator at once dismissed. He rose slowly to his feet. His manner was
grave but bewildered.
"Professor," he said, "we will waste no time in words. Look here."
He threw open the door of an anteroom behind his office. The apartment was
unfurnished except for one or two chairs. In the middle of the uncarpeted
floor was a long wooden box from which the lid had just been pried.
"Yesterday, as you know from my note," the curator proceeded, "I was away.
I gave orders that your case should be placed here and I myself should
enjoy the distinction of opening it. An hour ago I commenced the task.
That is what I found."
The Professor gazed blankly at the empty box.
"Nothing left except the smell," a voice from the open doorway remarked.
They glanced around. Quest was standing there, and behind him Lenora. The
Professor welcomed them eagerly.
"This is Mr. Quest, the great criminologist," he explained to the curator.
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