Quest?"
"I haven't had time to frame one yet," the criminologist replied. "You've
been keeping me too busy looking after myself. However," he added, "it's
time something was done."
He took a magnifying glass from his pocket and examined very closely the
whole of the front of the safe.
"No sign of finger-prints," he muttered. "The person who opened it
probably wore gloves."
He fitted the combination and swung open the door. He stood there, for a
moment, speechless. Something in his attitude attracted the Inspector's
attention.
"What is it, Mr. Quest?" he asked eagerly.
Quest drew a little breath. Exactly facing him, in the spot where the
jewels had been, was a small black box. He brought it to the table and
removed the lid. Inside was a sheet of paper, which he quickly unfolded.
They all three read the few lines together:--
"Pitted against the inherited cunning of the ages, you have no
chance. I will take compassion upon you. Look in the right-hand
drawer of your desk."
Underneath appeared the signature of the Hands. Quest moved like a dream
to his cabinet and pulled open the right-hand drawer. He turned around and
faced the other two men. In his hand was Mrs. Rheinholdt's necklace!
CHAPTER VIII
THE HOUSE OF MYSTERY
1.
Something in the nature of a conference was proceeding in Quest's study.
The Professor was there, seated in the most comfortable easy-chair,
smoking without relish one of his host's best cigars, watching with
nervous impatience the closed door.
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