“Was the belt or girdle lying loose, Mr Singh?” said the Doctor calmly, as the search went on.
“No, sir,” and the boy, more himself now, described the colour and shape of the missing case.
Then there was silence, which was only broken by the rustling noise that Glyn was making as he went on with the search till he had finished, closed the last drawer, locked it, and taken out the key. Then, with sinking heart, he said quietly, “I am afraid he’s right, sir. It’s gone.”
“Is there any other receptacle,” said the Doctor, “in which it could have been placed?”
“No, sir,” said Singh bitterly; “there is nowhere else.”
“I am thinking,” said the Doctor, “that it has not been stolen. If it had been, the person who took it would have been content with rolling up the girdle, as you say it was of soft leather, placing it in his pocket, reclosing the case, and leaving it behind—for two reasons: one, that it would be noticeable if carried about; another, that it might lie shut up in your box for any length of time, with the change that had taken place unsuspected. For, going to your box again and again and seeing the case there, the chances are that you would not have opened it to note that the contents were safe.”
The Doctor was silent for a minute or two. Then—“So there is no other receptacle in the room where the belt could have been placed?”
“No, sir,” said Singh, with a scarcely perceptible sneer in his tones. “There is nowhere else, sir, unless Glyn has put it away in his own drawers so as to keep it safe.”
“Oh!” cried Glyn, starting round angrily.
“Be silent, my boy,” said the Doctor, laying his white hand upon the boy’s shoulder. “Such a thing is quite possible, as I have previously explained. I was about to ask you to open the drawers yonder.”