“That’s all right, then,” French declared. “I’ve brought two more men with me. Perhaps, Mr. Sheriff, you wouldn’t mind escorting your prisoners around to headquarters? I’ll be there before long.”
“And you girls,” Quest insisted, “go right to your room and rest. I’ll come upstairs presently and have a talk. Look after her, Laura,” he added, glancing a little anxiously at Lenora. “She has had about as much as she can bear, I think.”
The two girls left the room. Quest stood upon the threshold, watching the Sheriff and his prisoners leave the house. The former turned round to wave his adieux to them.
“There’s an elderly josser out here,” he shouted; “seems to want to come in.”
Quest leaned forward and saw the Professor.
“Come right in, Mr. Ashleigh,” he invited.
The Professor promptly made his appearance. His coat was ill-brushed and in place of a hat he was wearing a tweed cap which had seen better days. His expression was almost pathetic.
“My dear Quest,” he exclaimed, as he wrung his hand, “my heartiest congratulations! As you know, I always believed in your innocence. I am delighted that it has been proved.”
“Come in and sit down, Mr. Ashleigh,” Quest invited. “You know the Inspector.”
The Professor shook hands with French, and then, feeling that his appearance required some explanation, he took off his cap and looked at it ruefully.