But Roger was not to do his thinking just yet. Scarcely had he reached the lawn when Alec appeared from the direction of the stables, somewhat hot and flushed. He fell into step with Roger and began to explain why he had been so long.
“Couldn’t get away from the wretched fellow!” he exclaimed. “Had to tell him the whole thing from beginning to—— Hullo! What’s up?”
Roger had halted and was staring in through the library windows. “I’ll swear I left that door shut,” he said in puzzled tones. “Somebody’s opened it. Come on!”
“Where are you going?” Alec asked in surprise.
“To see who’s in the library,” returned Roger, already halfway across the lawn. He quickened his pace to a run and hurried in through the French windows, Alec close on his heels.
A woman who was bending over something on the farther side of the room straightened hastily at their approach. It was Mrs. Plant, and the object over which she had been bending was a large safe that stood by the wall close to the little typewriting table. Roger had just had time to see that she was feverishly twisting the knob before she had sprung up on hearing their footsteps.
She faced them with heaving bosom and horrified eyes, one hand clutching the folds of her frock, the other clenched at her side. It was obvious that she was frightened almost out of her wits.
“Were you looking for anything?” Roger asked politely, and cursed himself for the banality of the words even as he spoke them.
With a tremendous effort Mrs. Plant appeared to pull herself together.
“My jewels,” she muttered jerkily. “I asked—Mr. Stanworth to—to lock them in his safe the other day. I—I was wondering—would the police take them? I thought it might be better if I——”