“Listen,” the widow went on excitedly. “Hear me, and then advise me what to do. I took this key,”—and she held it up for their inspection—“and hid it beneath the corner of the carpet in my room. This morning, to my amazement, my maid came to say that the safe-door had been found ajar, and that though the plate had been left, all the jewellery had disappeared. Only the empty cases remain!”
“How has the safe been opened?” asked the Prince, standing amazed.
Was it possible that some ingenious adventurer had got ahead of him? It certainly seemed so.
“It’s been opened by another key, that’s evident,” replied the widow.
“And where’s Ferrini?” inquired his Highness quickly.
“He’s missing. Nobody has seen him this morning,” answered the distressed woman. “Ah, Prince, you were right—quite right in your surmise. I believed in him, but you summed him up very quickly. I intended to discharge him to-morrow, but I never dreamed he possessed a second key.”
“He has the jewels, evidently,” remarked Sir Henry Hutton, himself a county magistrate. “I’ll run into Whitby, and inform the police, Mrs Edmondson. We have no idea which direction the fellow has taken.”
At that moment the door opened, and Garrett, cap in hand, stood on the threshold.
“Well, what’s the matter?” asked his master.
“Please, your Highness, our car’s gone. It’s been stolen from the garage in the night!”