I didn't dispute the point, but I felt a secret conviction that if I found the box to which the key belonged, I should somehow get sight of its contents.
As Mr. Ross seemed inclined to talk about the Pembroke matter I went on to discuss the other clues. He announced his intention of calling in a professional detective, but was waiting for Leroy's return before doing so.
"We've clues enough for a whole gang of burglars," he remarked. "I supposed of course most of these things,"—he was looking over my list,—"would be recognized by some of the family. But since they were not, they would seem to mean something definite in the way of evidence. However, I shall give them all to a detective as soon as possible, and if he can deduce any intruder from outside, and can explain how he effected an entrance, he will be cleverer than any detective in a story-book."
"You have all the clues, I suppose," I said, feeling a distinct sense of dismay at the thought of his detective.
"Yes," he said, opening a drawer of his desk.
With no definite purpose, I examined them, and noted on my list such details as the date and seat numbers on the ticket stubs, the date and wording of the telegram, the initials on the handkerchief and such matters.
"What is this?" I asked, as I noticed an opened envelope addressed to Robert Pembroke.
"That is our newest exhibit," said the Coroner; "it was brought me within the last hour by Inspector Crawford, and it seems to me to eliminate the torn telegram from our case entirely. Read it."