“Yes, Phoebe.”
“But—Oh, it’s impossible.”
“It is quite true, my dear. Some of the contents of the box are still in my possession.”
She tried to think what this admission meant.
“But, Mr. Spaythe, I—I—don’t—understand!”
“Of course you don’t, my child; nor do I. Let me explain more fully. On the afternoon following Judge Ferguson’s death I wanted to see Toby Clark on a matter connected with the funeral, of which I had assumed charge because I believed I was the judge’s closest friend. I did not know where to find Toby, but thinking he might be in the office I walked over there and entered, the door being unlocked. The place was vacant. Seeing the door of the smaller room ajar I walked in and found lying upon the table Mrs. Ritchie’s box. It was open and the lid was thrown back. I saw it was empty except for a yellow envelope with the end torn off and a legal document. This last attracted my attention at once, because of the names written on it. I knew that Mrs. Ritchie had been accustomed to keep many valuables in her box and had often warned Judge Ferguson that it was not wise to make a safety deposit vault of his law office; therefore the circumstance of finding the practically empty box on his table made me fear something was amiss. I tried the cupboard, but found it locked; so I wrapped the box in an old newspaper and carried it away to this office, without mentioning the fact to anyone. At my leisure I examined the paper found in the box and deciding it was of great importance I put it away in the bank safe, where it is still in my keeping. I may as well add that I believe this is the missing paper which Mrs. Ritchie is so anxious to regain—and I well understand her reasons for wanting it.”
His voice grew harsh as he said this and he paused, with a frown, before resuming in a more gracious tone:
“Later in the day, on my visit to the Ferguson house, Janet handed me her father’s keys. When I returned to the office I found the key that fitted Mrs. Ritchie’s box and locked it, although there was nothing then in it but the yellow envelope which once contained the paper I had seized. Soon after I was called into the bank a moment and when I returned, the box which had been lying on this table, had disappeared.”
“Stolen!” cried Phoebe in a hushed voice.
“Evidently. Stolen for the third time, I imagine. I did not see it again until it was found hidden in Toby Clark’s rubbish heap.”