He found the same in his bedroom; every drawer rummaged except his wardrobe, every box opened.
In Rex’s room the only thing that had been touched was the second trunk that the burglar had left on his previous visit. This was on the bed, opened, and its contents had been thrown around in confusion.
Tab’s gold watch and chain, which he had inadvertently left behind, was untouched. His cash-box had been wrenched open, but though the money had been emptied out, not a cent had been taken. Then he made a curious discovery. In one of the drawers of his desk he had a portfolio of photographs of himself which had been made a year before at the request of his many maiden-aunts. This had been removed and every photograph torn into four pieces. He found the debris with the other papers. It was the only wanton damage that the burglar had done. For what had he been searching? Tab puzzled his brains to remember the possession of something which might interest an outsider. What did Rex own that was worth all the trouble that this unknown visitor had taken?
He got on to the telephone and tried to reach Carver, and then remembered Carver had told him the station ’phone was out of order.
On the stroke of midnight Inspector Carver was tidying his desk, preparatory to leaving, when a dishevelled and damaged Tab made his appearance.
“Hullo,” said Carver, “been fighting?”
“The other fellow did the fighting,” said Tab. “Carver, I am going to sue the man who supplied us with our furniture. He said that the chairs were mahogany and they are only pine.”
“Sit down,” commanded the detective. “You seem to be a little out of your mind,” and then quickly, “you haven’t had another visit from your burglar?”
Tab nodded.
“And what is more, I found him at home,” he said grimly, and related all that had happened in the flat.