But I forgot Rogers in contemplation of the scene before me.
The inner room was ablaze with light, and the furniture stood hap-hazard about it, just as I had seen it earlier in the day. Only one thing had been moved. That was the Boule cabinet.
It had been carried to the centre of the room, and placed in the full glare of the light from the chandelier. It stood there blazing with arrogant beauty, a thing apart.
Who had helped Vantine place it there, I wondered? Neither Rogers nor
Parks had mentioned doing so. I turned back to the outer room.
Rogers was sitting crouched forward in his chair, his hands over his eyes, and I could feel him jerk with nervousness as I touched him on the shoulder.
"Oh, is it you, Mr. Lester?" he gasped. "Pardon me, sir; I'm not at all myself, sir."
"I can see that," I said, soothingly; "and no wonder. I just wanted to ask you—did you help move any of the furniture in the room yonder?"
"Help move it, sir?"
"Yes—help change the position of any of it since this afternoon?"
"No, sir; I haven't touched any of it, sir."