“How could we know?” asked Jeff Allen. “It was only a small fire and the most it burned was the robe in Mr. Appleby’s own car and a motor coat that was also in the car.”
“Whose coat?” asked Stone.
“Mine,” said Keefe, ruefully. “A bit of bad luck, too, for it was a new one. I had to get another in place of it.”
“And you think the fire was the result of a dropped cigarette or match by Mr. Appleby’s chauffeur?”
“I don’t know,” returned Keefe. “He denies it, of course, but it must have been that or an incendiary act of some one.”
“Maybe the bugler person,” suggested Stone.
“Maybe,” assented Keefe, though he did not look convinced.
“I think Mr. Keefe thinks it was the work of my own men,” said Dan Wheeler. “And it may have been. There’s one in my employ who has an ignorant, brutal spirit of revenge, and if he thought Samuel Appleby was inimical to me, he would be quite capable of setting fire to the Appleby car. That may be the fact of the case.”
“It may be,” agreed Stone. “Doubtless we can find out——”
“How?” asked Allen. “That would be magician’s work, I think.”