“There was something of importance in that box which has been taken out; probably a bundle of papers, more likely two bundles. The rubber bands suggest two. Anyway, they’re gone.”
He glanced around the room.
“And the green lacquer box has gone,” he said. “I know it was here, because I put it on the mantelshelf with my own hands.”
He opened the door leading to the vault and satisfied himself that nobody had gained admission to the underground room.
“We had better go along and see this police critic,” he said grimly.
It appeared that he had done Mr. Stott an injustice, for greatly fearing, he had crossed the road whilst the people were in the house, and he had made honest attempts to find a policeman, having sent the toothachy Eline on that errand, which was successful, if the success was somewhat belated, for the policeman arrived with her whilst the Inspector was talking to the merchant.
“I not only crossed the road,” said Mr. Stott, “but I went inside the garden. They must have seen me, for the light in the dining-room went out suddenly, and they came flying down the steps together.”
“And passed you, of course?”
“They did not pass me,” explained Mr. Stott emphatically, “because I was on the other side of the road before they were out of the gate. I do not think anything would have passed me.”
“What was the woman like?” asked Carver again.