“It seemed to me that there was a lot of glass-breaking—more than I’d expected. The light was hardly out before there was a smash and tinkle all over the place. Foxy must have got to work quicker than I’d allowed for. And I remember hearing quite a lot of hammering and smashing going on after that, as if he’d found it difficult to make a big enough hole in the glass of the case. I thought he’d bungled the business, and it was all I could do to keep my grip on Mold long enough to get the thing safely through.”
Sir Clinton dismissed that part of the subject. He turned to Una.
“Now, Miss Rainhill, I believe your part in the affair was to pull out the main switch of the house?”
“Yes,” Una admitted, looking rather surprised at the extent of his knowledge.
“Did you carry out your part of the arrangement punctually, or were you late in getting the current off?”
“I pulled out the switch to the very second. I had my hand on it and my eye on my wrist-watch; and when it came to 11.45 I jerked it out and the lights went off. I was absolutely right to a second, I’m sure.”
“And you thought Miss Rainhill had been a shade before her time, Cecil?”
“So it seemed to me. I hadn’t a chance of looking at my watch; and of course after the lights went off I couldn’t spare time to look.”
At this moment another knock came to the door and Foxy Polegate burst into the museum. Sir Clinton noticed that he was masquerading as a Harlequin.
“Heard you’d been asking for me, Sir Clinton,” he broke out as he came into the room. “Seems the keeper had been inquiring for me. So I came along as soon as I heard about it.”