“Quest,” he announced, “your alibi is useless—in fact a little worse than useless. The operator at Number 10 has been found murdered at the back of his tower!”
Quest started.
“I ought not to have left him to those thugs,” he murmured regretfully.
“There is no automobile of yours in the vicinity,” the Inspector continued, “nor any news of it. I think it will be as well now, Quest, for this matter to take its obvious course. Will you, first of all, hand over her jewels to Mrs. Rheinholdt?”
Quest drew the keys of the safe from his pocket, crossed the room and swung open the safe door. For a moment afterwards he stood transfixed. His arm, half outstretched, remained motionless. Then he turned slowly around.
“The jewels have been stolen,” he announced with unnatural calm.
Mrs. Rheinholdt pushed her way forward, wringing her hands.
“Stolen again?” she said. “Mr. Quest! Inspector!”
“They were there,” Quest declared, “when I left the house this morning. It seems probable,” he added, “that the same person who is responsible for this double tragedy has also taken the jewels.”
The Inspector laid his hand heavily upon Quest’s shoulder.