"I expect so, sir. Miss Ocky went down to the fire, but she came home long ago and told us it was under control. Miss Lucy came downstairs and waited until she heard that, then she went to bed. She wanted you to wake her when you came in and tell her all that happened."
"Humph. I'll go up in a few minutes. And—my son?"
"He's not in, sir. I haven't seen him all evening."
"Very well. Go to bed. Leave the door unlatched."
The old butler wished him good night and padded softly up the front stairs. Simon struck a match and went along the darkened hall to his study, where he struck another and lighted the wall-lamp near his desk. It was then he noticed something that caused him to fall back a pace and utter a sharp exclamation. The roll-top cover had been thrust up to its fullest extent—and the same glance showed him that his red-leather notebook, which he distinctly remembered tossing on to the desk, was gone! With a cry of pure rage, he darted to the door of the study.
"Bates!" he shouted. "Bates! Come down here! At once!"
The butler heard, and hurried to obey the urgency in Simon's voice. He found the tanner standing before his desk and examining its rather inadequate lock.
"We've been burgled," announced the victim grimly. "It just needed that to round the night off nicely."
"Burgled! Robbed! Surely not, sir!"
"Don't talk like an idiot! Get your torch. We'd best have a look around, though there's no doubt the dirty devil got what he came for! Where were you while—"