But Jenkins had not been murdered. He appeared at that moment with a coat and trousers put on hastily over his pyjamas. Sir Humphrey greeted him with relief and was not disappointed. Jenkins' feelings rivalled his own, and the two mourned together until Mr. Amberley intervened.
"Take a look at the valuables, Jenkins," he requested.
Jenkins went off at once. Sir Humphrey took his wife to see the damage done to the drawing-room window, and Mr. Amberley stood in the middle of the litter in the study, frowning.
He was joined soon by his cousin, who was in high fettle but indignant that no one had seen fit to rouse her. Mr. Arnberley evinced a mild interest in the methods usually employed by her maid when calling her in the morning.
Jenkins came back to report that so far as he could tell without making an inventory of the silver, nothing was missing. The dining room had not been touched, and the Georgian saltcellars were still reposing on the sideboard.
Mr. Amberley went in search of his uncle, whom he found raging over the damage done to his window. Lady Matthews was placidly agreeing with him.
"I want you to come and see whether anything is missing from your study, Uncle," said Amberley.
"How the devil am I to tell?" said Sir Humphrey. "It will take me hours to get my papers in order again! Upon my word, it sometimes seems to me there's no law left in England!"
"Did you keep anything of value in your desk?" interrupted Amberley.
"No, I did not. It is some slight comfort to me to know that this damned thief's labour was entirely fruitless!"