"Then we'll look for some other evidence," he said aggressively. "We're here to search, and I propose to search."
"The house is yours, gentlemen," said Dr. Underwood.
Selby took a truculent survey of the room, which was not a large one. He walked over to the bookcase and ran his hand behind the books on the shelves and lifted heaps of loose papers and magazines without disclosing anything more deadly than dust. Then he opened the door of a medicine cabinet on the wall and pulled out the drawers of the table, and ran his eye over the mantel. He suggested a terrier trying to unearth a rat and apparently he was perfectly willing to conduct the search alone.
Leslie was watching him with a look of so much indignation and repressed scorn that Burton bent to her and said in a low voice: "Wouldn't it be better for you to leave?"
She shook her head.
"Don't waste your good hate on him," Burton urged gently. "He isn't worth it."
"There is some one behind all this who is," she flashed.
"Yes. We'll find out who it is before we are through."
She gave him a grateful look, and on the instant he began wondering how he could win another. They seemed especially well worth collecting.
Selby had dropped on his knees before the open fireplace and was examining the bricks that made the hearth.