“Who got in the back way this morning?” barked Heath.
“Nobody, Sergeant. The cook went marketing about ten o’clock, and two regular deliverymen left packages. That’s every one who’s been through the rear gate since yesterday.”
“Is that so!” Heath was viciously sarcastic.
“I’m telling you——”
“Oh, all right, all right.” The Sergeant turned to Burke. “You get up on this wall and make the rounds. See if you can find where any one has climbed over.—And you, Snitkin, look over the yard for footprints. When you guys finish, report to me. I’m going inside.”
We went up the front walk, which had been swept clean, and Sproot admitted us to the house. His face was as blank as ever, and he took our coats with his usual obsequious formality.
“You’d better go to your room now, Miss Greene,” said Markham, placing his hand kindly on Ada’s arm. “Lie down, and try to get a little rest. You look tired. I’ll be in to see you before I go.”
The girl obeyed submissively without a word.
“And you, Sproot,” he ordered; “come in the living-room.”
The old butler followed us and stood humbly before the centre-table, where Markham seated himself.