“By George, but he was slick! The smartest criminal I’ve run across in years.”
A discreet tap sounded on the library door, and a muffled voice asked: “’Scuse me, but am Miss Eleanor in dar?”
“Come in, Nicodemus,” called Eleanor. The old darky entered and, circling the table, handed her a note on the silver salver. She hastily tore it open and read its contents. “I must consult Cousin Kate,” she announced, rising hastily, “before I can answer this.”
“We must all be going,” said Brett, following her into the hall, while Nicodemus paused to put out the lights. “One moment, Miss Thornton, will you please give me the ruby necklace.”
“Why, I handed it to you,” ejaculated Eleanor, in surprise, turning back from the staircase.
“I beg your pardon,” said Brett, with positiveness. “I saw Mr. Hunter drop it on the table in front of you.” Douglas and the young officer joined them.
“So he did,” declared Lane, and with the others followed Eleanor as she hastily reëntered the library.
“Why, it’s not anywhere on the table.” Eleanor felt among the table ornaments. “Douglas, do light the gas,” in growing alarm.
“Where in thunder are the matches?” growled Douglas, overturning a vase on the secretary in his endeavors to find a matchbox. “Got any, Nicodemus?” as a figure brushed by him in the darkness and approached the chimney. The other men were busy searching vainly in their pockets for a match.
“Good for you, Nicodemus,” called Douglas, as a tiny flame appeared in the direction of the chimney. “Bring it over here and light this chandelier.” His order was not obeyed.