“Did you think to ask the bank officials when Meredith rented the, shall we say, second box?” broke in Curtis.
Hollister nodded his head vigorously. “Yes. The box containing the securities he has had for going on ten years, while this smaller box he rented only four weeks ago to-day.” Hollister looked squarely at Mitchell. “The box rents for twenty-five dollars a year. Now, why should Meredith pay that amount and place only a duplicate key in it?”
“He may have intended to place other valuables there,” suggested the Inspector, shaking several bunches of keys out of a chamois bag which he removed from an inside pocket. He spread the keys on the table before them, and then, taking them up one by one, he matched each key with the one bearing the linen tag with its single word, “duplicate,” written plainly upon it. The Inspector was thorough in his examination and Curtis had time to become impatient before he spoke.
“This Yale key is unlike any we have here.” Mitchell spoke with more gravity; he had not at first taken Hollister’s comments on the importance of the duplicate key very seriously. “And these keys are all that we found in this bedroom, in the library and in the pockets of Meredith’s suits of clothes.”
“Did you look in the pocket of Meredith’s pajamas?” questioned Curtis.
“Wasn’t a thing in it, except a handkerchief,” replied Mitchell. “If you’ll let me keep this key, Mr. Hollister, I’ll have Sergeant Brown and an assistant search for its mate.”
“And the lock which it fits,” put in Curtis swiftly, as the Inspector, taking Hollister’s permission for granted, slipped the keys back in the chamois bag, keeping, however, the key under discussion in his right hand.
“We will institute a thorough search, don’t fear,” responded Mitchell, none too well pleased with Curtis’ tone. He brushed by the blind surgeon and was the first to step into the hall, the others just behind him. “Where is that wretched parrot of Mr. Meredith’s? It isn’t in his old bedroom.”
His question was overheard by Fernando, who had loitered near the head of the circular staircase, one eye on the closed door behind which the three men were conferring and the other on the front hall beneath.
“Mees Anne has Ruffles,” he volunteered, coming toward them. “The bird, she cry so much, an’ Mees Anne say ‘Fernando, bring Ruffles to my room.’”