“What is it, Mr. Quest?” he asked eagerly.
Quest drew a little breath. Exactly facing him, in the spot where the jewels had been, was a small black box. He brought it to the table and removed the lid. Inside was a sheet of paper, which he quickly unfolded. They all three read the few lines together:—
“Pitted against the inherited cunning of the ages, you have no chance. I will take compassion upon you. Look in the right-hand drawer of your desk.”
Underneath appeared the signature of the Hands. Quest moved like a dream to his cabinet and pulled open the right-hand drawer. He turned around and faced the other two men. In his hand was Mrs. Rheinholdt’s necklace!
Chapter VIII
THE HOUSE OF MYSTERY
1.
Something in the nature of a conference was proceeding in Quest’s study. The Professor was there, seated in the most comfortable easy-chair, smoking without relish one of his host’s best cigars, watching with nervous impatience the closed door. Laura and Lenora were seated at the table, dressed for the street. They had the air of being prepared for some excursion. Quest, realising the Professor’s highly-strung state, had left him alone for a few moments and was studying a map of New York. The latter, however, was too ill at ease to keep silent for long.
“Our friend French,” he remarked, “gave you no clue, I suppose, as to the direction in which his investigations are leading him?”