“But—but——” Major Jefferson hesitated, and it seemed to the interested Roger that his usually impassive face showed traces of real alarm. “But is that necessary?” he asked more calmly. “There may be private papers in there of a highly confidential nature. Not that I know anything about it,” he added somewhat hastily; “but Mr. Stanworth was always exceedingly reticent about the contents.”
“All the more reason for us to have a look at them, sir,” returned the inspector dryly. “As for anything confidential, that will of course go no farther. That is, unless there is some excellent reason to the contrary,” he added darkly.
Still Jefferson hesitated. “Of course, if you insist,” he said slowly, “there is no more to be said. Still, it seems highly unnecessary to me, I must say.”
“That, sir, is a matter for me to decide,” replied the inspector shortly. “Now, can you tell me where the key would be and what the combination is?”
“I believe that Mr. Stanworth usually kept his key-ring in his right-hand waistcoat pocket,” Jefferson said tonelessly, as if the subject had ceased to interest him. “As for the combination, I have not the least idea what it was. I was not in Mr. Stanworth’s confidence to that extent,” he added with the least possible shade of bitterness in his voice.
The inspector was feeling in the pocket mentioned. “Well, they’re not here now,” he said. With quick, deft movements he searched the other pockets. “Ah! Here they are. In the one above. He must have slipped them into the wrong pocket by mistake. But you say you don’t know the combination? Now I wonder how we can find that.” He weighed the ring of keys thoughtfully in his hand, deliberating.
Roger had strolled round the room with a careless air. If that safe was going to be opened, he wanted a good look at the contents. Now he paused by the fireplace.
“Hullo!” he remarked suddenly. “Somebody’s been burning something here.” He bent and peered into the grate. “Paper! I shouldn’t be surprised if those ashes aren’t all that’s left of your evidence, Inspector.”
The inspector crossed the room hastily and joined him. “I daresay you’re right, Mr. Sheringham,” he said disappointedly. “I ought to have noticed that myself. Thank you. Still, we must get that safe opened as soon as possible in any case.”
Roger rejoined Alec. “One to me,” he smiled. “Now, if he’d been one of the story-book inspectors, he’d have bitten my head off for discovering something that he’d missed. I like this man.”