Now listen,
Professor. I know this will be painful to you, but give me your best
attention for a few minutes. These young women assistants of mine have
formed a theory of their own about the murder in my flat and the robbery
of the jewels. Hold on to your chair, Professor. They believe that the
guilty person was Craig."
The Professor's face was almost pitiful in its blank amazement. His mouth
was wide open like a child's, words seemed absolutely denied to him.
"That's their theory," Quest went on. "They may be right or they may be
wrong--Lenora, at any rate, has collected some shreds of evidence. They
hatched a scheme between them, clever enough in its way. They locked Craig
up in your garage and got me out of the Tombs in Laura's clothes. I have
come straight up to find your garage open and Lenora missing."
The Professor rose to his feet, obviously making a tremendous effort to
adjust his ideas.
"Craig locked up in my garage?" he murmured. "Craig guilty of those
murders? Why, my dear Mr. Quest, a more harmless, a more inoffensive,
peace-loving and devoted servant than John Craig never trod this earth!"
"Maybe," Quest replied, "but come out here, Mr. Ashleigh."
The Professor followed his companion out to the garage. Quest showed him
the open door and the marks of footsteps around where he had picked up the
handkerchief.
"Now," he said, "what has become of your man Craig, and what has become of
my assistant Lenora?"
"Perhaps we had better search the house," the Professor suggested.
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