‘Yes,’ continued Mr Kidman complacently, finding that he had at last made an impression; ‘and this sort of thing’ (holding up the jemmy) ‘is not exactly what you would expect to find in a gentleman’s dressing-case. I found it here on the table, and the middle drawer has been forced open with it.’
‘The drawer forced open?’ muttered the Squire doubtingly.
‘You will find it so, and done by an experienced hand too. Will you oblige me by examining the contents of the drawer and letting me know what has been abstracted?’
‘This is horrible!’ said the Major, becoming calmer as the situation became more serious.
It was indeed most horrible to every one present. Miss Euphemia afterwards declared to Mrs John that she felt ready to sink through the floor, and fervently wished that she could have done so.
‘The drawer has certainly been rummaged by some one,’ the Squire said gravely.
‘Anything valuable missing?’ asked the detective, notebook in hand.
‘Yes—a considerable sum of money in notes and gold.’
‘Ah, I daresay our friend will be able to give us an account of the notes and gold,’ was the playful comment of Mr Kidman.
‘This indignity is insufferable,’ said the Major stiffly; ‘and I cannot understand, Elliott, why you should hesitate for a moment to release me from this degrading position. You know me; you know how easily my identity can be established. You know nothing of this man beyond his own assertion. How can you tell that he is not a confederate of the thieves, and his present action a ruse to give them time to escape?’