"You must be crazy to think the boy is here," Saxby blustered, as they re-emerged. They paid not the slightest attention to him, but continued their search into the kitchen, the only other room of the house.
"No," said Saltire, very quietly, as he came back into the room and set the light on the table; "the boy is not here. But where is Mrs. Saxby?"
Saxby's face had grown rather pallid, but his jaw was set in a dogged fashion.
"That is my business," he said harshly.
It was Saltire whose face and manner had become subtly agreeable.
"Oh, no, Saxby; it is all of our business at present. What I find so strange is that nowhere in the house is there any sign or token that a woman lives here, or has ever lived here. It seems to me that needs a little explaining."
"You'll get no explanation from me," was the curt answer.
"I think you had better tell us something about it," said Saltire pleasantly. He held the lantern high, and it lighted up a shelf upon which stood some curious glass jars with perforated stoppers. "I see you have a fine collection of live tarantulas and scorpions. I remember now I have often seen you groping among the aloes. Curious hobby!"
"Get out of my house!" said Saxby, with sudden rage.
"And is the snake still in the box?" asked Saltire, approaching the table where the cardboard box still occupied its central position, with the heavy iron on top of it.