“That would be for me to judge.”
“You shall do so, Mr Carrados. I live at Windermere Mansions with my sister. A few months ago she got to know a married couple who had recently come to the opposite flat. The husband was a middle-aged, scholarly man who spent most of his time in the British Museum. His wife’s tastes were different; she was much younger, brighter, gayer; a mere girl in fact, one of the most charming and unaffected I have ever met. My sister Amelia does not readily——”
“Stop!” exclaimed Carrados. “A studious middle-aged man and a charming young wife! Be as brief as possible. If there is any chance it may turn on a matter of minutes at the ports. She came here, of course?”
“Accompanied by her husband,” replied the manager stiffly. “Mrs Scott had travelled and she had a hobby of taking photographs wherever she went. When my position accidentally came out one evening she was carried away by the novel idea of adding views of a safe-deposit to her collection—as enthusiastic as a child. There was no reason why she should not; the place has often been taken for advertising purposes.”
“She came, and brought her camera—under your very nose!”
“I do not know what you mean by ‘under my very nose.’ She came with her husband one evening just about our closing time. She brought her camera, of course—quite a small affair.”
“And contrived to be in here alone?”
“I take exception to the word ‘contrived.’ It—it happened. I sent out for some tea, and in the course——”
“How long was she alone in here?”
“Two or three minutes at the most. When I returned she was seated at my desk. That was what I referred to. The little rogue had put on my glasses and had got hold of a big book. We were great chums, and she delighted to mock me. I confess that I was startled—merely instinctively—to see that she had taken up this book, but the next moment I saw that she had it upside down.”