Leon grinned. This description of himself never failed to tickle him.
One of the workers in the library came out at this point.
“Have you seen Cuccini?”
“No,” said the man at the door.
“Go in and find him. He ought to be here.”
Cuccini’s absence evidently made him uneasy, for though he returned to the room he was out again in a minute, asking if the messenger had come back. Then, from the back of the passage, came the searcher’s voice:
“The kitchen’s locked.”
The safe-cutter uttered an expression of amazement.
“Locked? What’s the idea?”
He came to the foot of the stairs and bellowed up: