“Ah,” said the Doctor, and he stood looking on while Glyn deftly emptied and restored each drawer in turn, the task being facilitated by the orderly state of the contents.
“Nothing,” said the Doctor, as that task was ended. “Now, Mr Singh, it will be as well to replace those scattered objects of attire in your box.”
“Oh,” cried Singh angrily, “I can’t think now of such trifles as those.”
“Replace them in the box,” said the Doctor sternly.—“Mr Severn, have the goodness to help your friend.”
As the Doctor spoke he gravely sank into one of the little bedroom chairs, and sat thinking with wrinkled brow, and watching the proceedings of the two boys till they had ended.
“Now,” he said, “can you think out any clue to help us to find the missing case?”
“No, sir,” came almost simultaneously from the boys’ lips.
“No,” said the Doctor. “The mystery, for so I must call it, is at present dark and impenetrable. I am not going to send for the police to make a clumsy and painful investigation at once, because I still cling to the belief that something will occur to you two boys that will help us to pierce what now looks very black and impenetrable. You will kindly do as I tell you: go on with your daily avocations as if nothing had happened, and leave any expose of what may or may not be a painful matter to come gradually and from me.”
Both boys responded by a sharp nod of the head.
“If you have not thought about the matter,” continued the Doctor, “let me tell you this—though you, Severn, must have felt it only a short time back. Every person who is questioned or examined about this missing belt is bound to feel a pang of indignation at what he looks upon as being treated as a thief. We are approaching to fourscore personages in this establishment; and if the belt has been stolen, the probability is that seventy-nine are innocent and only one guilty. Now, you see, to find the one guilty we must spare the seventy-nine innocent. Do you apprehend my meaning?”