“Nearly. The grand piano and a big book-case have been; left.”
“I wonder if it’s been done by professional removers, or by amateurs?” suggested the manager.
“Ah! I don’t know. If you saw the state of the place you’d know, wouldn’t you?”
“Most probably.”
“Then if you’ll come with me I’ll be delighted to show you, and you can give me your opinion.”
So the pair entered a cab, and a quarter of an hour later were passing along the hall of the empty house. The manager of Harmer’s removals inspected room after room, noticed how the curtains had been torn down, and noted in the fire grate of the drawing-room a quantity of tinder where a number of papers seemed to have been burned.
“No,” he said presently. “This removal was carried out by amateurs, who were in a very violent hurry. Those vans were faked—bought, perhaps, and repainted with our name. It’s evident that they deceived the constable very cleverly.”
“But the whole affair is so extraordinary?” gasped Max, staring at his companion.
“Yes. It would appear so. Your friend, the Doctor, evidently wished to get his goods away with the least possible delay and in the greatest secrecy.”
“But the employment of so many men did not admit of much secrecy, surely!”