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

"The Black Box"

I am
delighted that it has been proved."
"Come in and sit down, Mr. Ashleigh," Quest invited. "You know the
Inspector."
The Professor shook hands with French, and then, feeling that his
appearance required some explanation, he took off his cap and looked at it
ruefully.
"I am aware," he said, "that this is not a becoming headgear, but I am
lost--absolutely lost without my servant. If you would earn my undying
gratitude, Mr. Quest, you would clear up the mystery about Craig and
restore him to me."
Quest was helping the Inspector to the whisky at the sideboard. He paused
to light a cigar before he replied.
"I very much fear, Professor," he observed, "that you will never have
Craig back again."
The Professor sank wearily into an easy-chair.
"I will take a little whisky and one of your excellent cigars, Quest," he
said. "I must ask you to bear with me if I seem upset. After more than
twenty years' service from one whom I have always treated as a friend,
this sudden separation, to a man of my age, is somewhat trying. My small
comforts are all interfered with. The business of my every-day life is
completely upset. I do not allude, as you perceive, Mr. Quest, to the
horrible suspicions you seem to have formed of Craig. My own theory is
that you have simply frightened him to death."
"All the same," the Inspector remarked thoughtfully, "some one who is
still at large committed those murders and stole those jewels. What is
your theory about the jewels, Mr.


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