“Quest?” he exclaimed. “God bless my soul! Have they let you out already, then?”
“I came out,” Quest replied grimly. “Sit down and listen to me for a moment, will you?”
“You came out?” the Professor repeated, looking a little dazed. “You mean that you escaped?”
Quest nodded.
“Perhaps I made a mistake,” he admitted, “but here I am. Now listen, Professor. I know this will be painful to you, but give me your best attention for a few minutes. These young women assistants of mine have formed a theory of their own about the murder in my flat and the robbery of the jewels. Hold on to your chair, Professor. They believe that the guilty person was Craig.”
The Professor’s face was almost pitiful in its blank amazement. His mouth was wide open like a child’s, words seemed absolutely denied to him.
“That’s their theory,” Quest went on. “They may be right or they may be wrong—Lenora, at any rate, has collected some shreds of evidence. They hatched a scheme between them, clever enough in its way. They locked Craig up in your garage and got me out of the Tombs in Laura’s clothes. I have come straight up to find your garage open and Lenora missing.”
The Professor rose to his feet, obviously making a tremendous effort to adjust his ideas.
“Craig locked up in my garage?” he murmured. “Craig guilty of those murders? Why, my dear Mr. Quest, a more harmless, a more inoffensive, peace-loving and devoted servant than John Craig never trod this earth!”
“Maybe,” Quest replied, “but come out here, Mr. Ashleigh.”