“Nothing whatever.”
“And no clue was left behind?”
“No clue except the filed fastening of a window and two open doors which had been locked as usual when the household retired.”
“Hm,” mused Harley again; “this incident, of course, may have been an isolated one and in no way connected with the surveillance of which you complain. I mean that this person who undoubtedly entered your house might prove to be an ordinary burglar.”
“On a table in the hallway of Cray’s Folly,” replied Colonel Menendez, impressively—“so my house is named—stands a case containing presentation gold plate. The moonlight of which I have spoken was shining fully upon this case, and does the burglar live who will pass such a prize and leave it untouched?”
“I quite agree,” said Harley, quietly, “that this is a very big point.”
“You are beginning at last,” suggested the Colonel, “to believe that my suspicions are not quite groundless?”
“There is a distinct possibility that they are more than suspicions,” agreed Harley; “but may I suggest that there is something else? Have you an enemy?”
“Who that has ever held public office is without enemies?”
“Ah, quite so. Then I suggest again that there is something else.”