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Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips), 1866-1946

"The Black Box"

"Where are you, Lenora?" he signalled. "Send me word
and I will fetch you. I am in my own house for the present. Let me know
that you are safe."
The Professor leaned back, smoking one of Quest's excellent cigars. He was
beginning to show signs of the liveliest interest.
[Illustration: QUEST AND LAURA CHANGE CLOTHES SO THAT QUEST MAY MAKE HIS
ESCAPE.]
[Illustration: ONE OF THE CLUB'S BUTLERS TURNS IN A FIRE ALARM.]
"Quest," he said, "I wish I could induce you to dismiss this extraordinary
supposition of yours concerning my servant Craig. The man has been with me
for the best part of twenty years. He saved my life in South America; we
have travelled in all parts of the world. He has proved himself to be
exemplary, a faithful and devoted servant. I thought it absurd, Mr. Quest,
when you were suspected of these crimes. I should think it even more
ridiculous to associate Craig with them in any way whatever."
"Then perhaps you will tell me," Quest suggested, "where he is now, and
why he has gone away? That does not look like complete innocence, does
it?"
The Professor sighed.
"Appearances are nothing," he declared. "Craig is a man of highly nervous
susceptibilities. The very idea of being suspected of anything so terrible
would be enough to drive him almost out of his mind. I am convinced that
we shall find him at home presently, with some reasonable explanation of
his absence."
Quest paced the room for a few moments, moodily.
There was a certain amount of reason in the Professor's point of view.


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