The Sergeant scratched his head, "I lay awake half last night, trying to spot something," he said. "But I'm blessed if I could, I don't see what you can have missed."
"Of course you don't! If you could see it, I'd have seen it for myself, long ago!" Hemingway said irritably. "I've got a feeling the whole time that it's right under my nose, too, which is enough to make a saint swear. The trouble is I'm getting distracted, what with all the engagements being made and broken off, and Mrs. Herriard worrying me to find out who burned her ruddy Empress, and I don't know what beside. What I need is a bit of peace and quiet. Then I might be able to think."
The Sergeant hid a smile behind his hand. "Mrs. Herriard been at you again, sir?" he asked sympathetically.
"Not to mention young Stephen. I did think he'd more sense. Anyone would think I'd nothing better to do than to look for missing property!"
"Who was this Empress anyway?" asked the Sergeant.
"How should I know? Look here, if you're going to start badgering me about her, I may as well book myself a nice room in a mental home, because I'll need it. I got hold of you to talk over a murder, not to have a chat about a lot of foreign royalties. What would you say was a predominating factor in this case?"
The Sergeant could not resist this invitation. "Something that keeps on cropping up, sir? Well, I don't quite like to say."
"Why the devil not?" demanded Hemingway. "What is it?"
,Well, sir - the Empress!" said the Sergeant apologetically.
"Now, look here, my lad," Hemingway began, in an awful tone, "if you think this is the time to be cracking silly jokes-" He broke off suddenly, and his brows snapped together. "You're right!" he said. "By God, you are right!"