He subsided, and Kennedy, looking closely at him, shoved him a chair. "Here, sir. You had better sit down."
Sharp almost collapsed. "Thanks," he muttered.
"One further question," McCumber said. "Where was the box sitting when Morton opened it?"
"Why—" Sharp looked startled. "On that heavy table." He pointed to a table across the room.
"But it's on the scales now," McCumber said, nodding his head toward it.
"Yes, it is," Sharp answered. "Mr. Morton must have moved it after I left."
McCumber turned to the detectives. "Gentlemen, if I may suggest it, I think it would be wise to search the museum."
The detectives looked like they didn't enjoy the task, but they went about it efficiently, guns drawn. The others remained in the basement. Sharp kept up a running fire of nervous conversation, to which McCumber paid little attention. The old archeologist seemed to be lost in thought.
Kennedy returned. The detective was very pale. "We didn't find anything," he said. "We still don't know whether it's here or not. But we can't take a chance of that thing getting loose. We'll stay here, as a guard." He looked sharply at McCumber and the business manager. "If I may suggest it, this has been quite a strain on you. Perhaps it would be best if you went home and rested. However if someone who is familiar with the museum will stay—"
"I'll stay," said Rocks.