“For what?”
“To see if Austin dropped any paper—any note paper, so big”—and she demonstrated an approximate size while Ferguson listened eagerly. “Austin must have had some reason for returning so unexpectedly.”
“Of course he did,” agreed Ferguson. “And you think there may be a clew tucked away in this bedroom. Well, we think alike in that. It is the same line of reasoning which brought me up here.” Mrs. Hale winked away her tears and brightened visibly; she was easily influenced by flattery and Ferguson’s tone of comradeship tinged with admiration completely won her. “This room has been thoroughly searched.”
“But something may have been overlooked,” she interrupted eagerly.
“Exactly—suppose we look,” and, rising, Ferguson aided her in her rapid investigation of the bureau drawers. They were rewarded by finding only a few articles of wearing apparel. Her ardor somewhat dampened, Mrs. Hale accompanied the detective to the closet and stepped inside its commodious depths.
“This is evidently the overcoat and hat Austin was wearing on Tuesday night,” Ferguson pointed out, holding them up for her inspection. “And here is the coat of his suit,” removing it from the hook as he spoke.
Mrs. Hale shrank back, then shaking off her slight feeling of repugnance she deliberately searched every pocket—to find a silk handkerchief and a gold card case in which were Austin’s visiting cards.
“Austin must have come direct to his bedroom on reaching here Tuesday night,” Ferguson remarked as he replaced the coat. “Why he went downstairs in his vest and shirt sleeves, I cannot imagine.”
“Perhaps he was in the midst of dressing and was called downstairs,” suggested Mrs. Hale and her voice indicated pleased surprise at her own astuteness.
“Who called him?”