“Yes, he got away.”
She looked at the scar on her visitor’s face.
“Did you see him?” she asked.
“I didn’t see him but I felt him,” Mr. Johnson rejoined, a little ruefully. “We had scarcely more than a few seconds’ scrap in the dark. He came up from behind with a chloroformed handkerchief.”
She lay back and closed her eyes. In a moment or two she seemed to recover herself.
“Papers—nothing but papers stolen,” she murmured. “That doesn’t sound like an ordinary burglary.”
“It wasn’t,” he agreed.
“What do you think about it?” she asked eagerly.
“What is there to think?” he rejoined. “Some one wanted those papers. We must communicate with Miss Endacott at once and ascertain what they were and to whom they would be of value.”
“You needn’t trouble to do that,” Madame confided; “my niece will be here this afternoon. She is coming down to stay with me for a few days.”