“Those, sir, I took from Miss Carrington’s dressing-table.” Jane gave a slight shudder as if at the recollection of the tragedy of that table.
“But these are of a different patterned handle from the rest of that dressing-table’s silver.”
“I don’t know, sir, as to that. They were there and I brought them.”
“Very well, Jane. Take them all back to their places. Mind now, don’t mix them.”
“No, sir. Thank you, sir.”
A strange excitement seemed to seize upon Fleming Stone. Abruptly he left the room, and, flinging on his overcoat in the hall, he snatched his hat and went away, almost on a run. His steps took him to the garage and in a few moments he was in a swift little runabout being driven to the sanatorium where Estelle was still staying.
After a call there, he hurried to Police Headquarters. Thence, after a rather long call, to a telegraph office, to one or two shops and then back to Garden Steps.
Here he put several servants at work for him, packing his effects and such matters, then summoning Gray Haviland to the library, he said; “I’m sailing for Egypt this afternoon. May I ask you to make no further investigations till my return?”
“Egypt!” gasped Gray. “Good Heavens, man! what for?”
“In the interest of my work for you,” returned Stone, gravely.