He strolled away as the clerk came shuffling down the steps. As Barnes mounted them, he glanced over his shoulder and saw Sprouse take up a suitcase near the door and return to the desk, evidently for the purpose of engaging a room for the night.
Before going to his room, he strode lightly down the hall in the direction of room 30. There was no light in the transom. Stepping close to the door, he listened intently for sounds from within. He started back almost instantly. The occupant was snoring with extreme heartiness.
A glance revealed a light in the transom of room 32. As he looked, however, it disappeared. Abashed, he turned and went swiftly away. She was going to bed. He felt like a snooping, despicable "peeping Tom" caught in the act.
He had been in his room for twenty minutes before he heard the tapping on his door. He opened it and Sprouse slid into the room. The instant the door closed behind him, he threw open his coat and coolly produced a long, shallow metal box, such as one finds in safety vaults.
"With my compliments," he said drily, thrusting the box into Barnes's hands. "You'd better have the Countess check them up and see if they're all there. I am not well enough acquainted with the collection to be positive."
Barnes was speechless. He could only stare, open-mouthed, at this amazing man.
"Grip 'em tight," went on Sprouse, grinning. "I may relieve you of them if you get too careless. My advice to you is to hide them and keep your lips closed—"
"My God, Sprouse, have you been in that man's room since I saw you down—"
"I forgot to say that no questions were to be asked," broke in the other.
"But I insist upon having everything cleared up. Here am I with a box of jewels stolen from a lodger's room, God knows how, and in danger of being slapped into jail if they catch me with the—"