Eve put out her hand and touched it gingerly. “You mean—he wore a wig!”
“Looks like it. I grabbed at his hair just as I fell. When it came off in my hand, I thought I must be seeing things!”
Abruptly Eve leaned over and sniffed at the wig. “Harry’s Hair Restorer!” she announced.
Michael looked at her in amazement. “Mean to say you know the gentleman? Perhaps he wasn’t a burglar after all?”
“If he wasn’t,” answered Eve slowly, “then I don’t know what he was doing in our house! Unless—unless he came after the letter!”
“But we sent it back to him,” I cried.
“I know, but maybe he didn’t get it. Maybe he didn’t go back to Trap’s—don’t you see? But he wanted the letter and when he didn’t find it in his suitcase, he—he came after it.”
Michael got up from the wall. “Well, I guess I’ll be getting on,” he said stiffly. “Of course, if I’d known you were acquainted with the fellow——”
“But we’re not—not really. Oh, wait a minute, please!” Eve put out her hand to hold him back. “If you’ll just give us a chance we’ll tell you all about it. In fact, I think it’s time we told somebody.”
Back at the house after we had helped Michael remove some of the mud from his person, we told him the story; first of Mr. Bangs’ activities in the garden of Craven House and then of the piece of paper with the odd inscription, which we had found.