“Ah! You have not forgotten the tapestries!” The crime specialist’s eyes snapped. “I never saw finer. Campe has a prize in them, indeed.”
“The tapestries are fine—for those folks who are strong for them,” admitted Bat. “But there are other things in that room that would get me quicker than they would.”
“As your interest is so keen,” smiled Ashton-Kirk, “we may as well take the tapestry room first. Who knows what interests we may uncover there?”
Scanlon led the way upstairs and pushed open the door of the room in question. The sun shone in; the painting, the carvings, the tapestry, the rare rugs and furniture showed to wonderful advantage.
“They’ve got it a step or two ahead of me,” admitted Mr. Scanlon, “but for all that, I’ll say it’s some room. Class from every angle.”
The harp stood, muffled, near a window, and the big man was gratified to see Ashton-Kirk go directly to it and strip off the cover.
“The harp,” said Bat, “is an emblem of Erin, and I have nothing against it. But there is something about this particular one that I don’t like, for every time I look at it I feel it’s got something on me.”
Ashton-Kirk examined the instrument with much attention; there was a pleased look upon his face; his singular eyes shone with interest; and now and then he uttered a low exclamation. His fingers ran over the strings. Then, at length, he stepped back and stood nodding and smiling.
“That,” said he, “is exceedingly clever. As a matter of fact I don’t know when I’ve encountered anything more ingenious.”
“Eh?” said Scanlon, blankly.