“Stop! . . . Now come out again, gently. Don’t upset the glass bell.”
Douglas withdrew his arm cautiously.
“One pace to the rear, and stand fast.”
Douglas stepped back obediently. Westenhanger went up to the cabinet.
“I’m shutting the door. Hear the click?”
He suited the action to the word, closing the door which Douglas had opened. Then he turned round to Eileen.
“Now do you see, Miss Cressage? That’ll do, Douglas. You can take off your turban. It doesn’t suit you.”
Douglas disentangled himself from the scarf, blinked for a moment or two, and then looked at the cabinet.
“What’s your little game?” he demanded. “The left-hand door’s open now. It was the right-hand one that I opened.”
“Exactly,” said Westenhanger. “The left-hand door’s been open all the time—just as the thief left it. Neither of you touched it. That’s why I blindfolded you both. I wanted you to think both doors were shut; and I didn’t want to close that left-hand door. Much better to leave things exactly as they are. The Dangerfields may want to call in the police after all, you know; and we mustn’t destroy any possible clues. Hence the gloves I asked you to put on—you’ve left no fingermarks.”