"The thing grows more and more inexplicable," he was saying to her in a low, strained voice. "All the inquiries I've caused to be made in London and in Paris have led to a negative result."
"We shall only know the truth when we get a peep of those papers in
Henry's safe, my dear friend," was the woman's reply.
"And that's a pretty difficult job. You don't know where the old fellow keeps the key?"
"I only wish I did. Gabrielle knows, no doubt."
"Then you ought to compel her to divulge," he urged. "Once we get hold of that key for half-an-hour, we could learn a lot."
"A lot that would be useful to you, eh?" remarked the woman, with a meaning smile.
"And to you also," he said. "Couldn't we somehow watch and see where he hides the safe-key? He never has it upon him, you say."
"It isn't on his bunch."
"Then he must have a hiding-place for it, or it may be on his watch-chain," remarked the man decisively. "Get rid of all the guests as quickly as you can, Winnie. While they're about there's always a danger of eavesdroppers and of watchers."
"I've already announced that I'm going up to Inverness next week, so within the next day or two our friends will all leave."