“Behold an honest cop!” approved Chase. “One who’ll admit he hasn’t a dozen mysterious clues up his sleeve! It’s a record!”
“I’m going back to the station now,” resumed Quimby, ignoring him, “to write my report. There’s nothing more I can do to-night. I’ll be around, of course, the first thing in the morning. I’ve thrown the fear of the Lord into the whole staff of servants. They won’t dare budge till I get back. No danger of one of them confusing things by leaving on the sly.”
Vail followed the two officers to the front door and watched them climb into their rattling car and make off down the drive. As they disappeared, he wished he had asked the chief to leave his man on guard outside the house for the night.
The mystery of the thefts and the evening’s later complications had gotten on Vail’s nerves. If the supposedly secure rooms could be plundered by a mysterious robber when a score of people were awake, in and around the building, could not the same robber return to complete his work when all the house should be sleeping and unguarded?
Thaxton’s worries found themselves centering about Doris Lane. If the intruder should alarm her at dead of night—!
“Mac,” he said under his breath to the collie standing at his side on the veranda. “You’re going to do real guard duty to-night. I’m going to post you at the foot of the stairs, and there I want you to stay. No comfy snoring on the front door mat this time. You’ll lie at the foot of the stairs where you can catch every sound and where you can block any one who may try to go up or down. Understand that, old boy?”
Macduff did not understand. All he knew was that Vail was talking to him and that some sort of response was in order. Wherefore the collie wagged his plumed tail very emphatically indeed and thrust his cold nose affectionately into Thaxton’s cupped hand.
Vail turned back into the house, Macduff at his heels. He locked the front door, preparatory to making a personal inspection of every ground floor door and window. As he entered the front hall he encountered Doris Lane.
The girl had left her aunt in the living room, listening with scant patience to a ramblingly told theory of Chase’s as to how best the stolen goods might be traced. Doris had slipped away to bed, leaving them there. She was very tired and her nerves were not at their best. The evening had been an ordeal for her—severe and prolonged.
“Going to turn in?” asked Vail as they met.