“Yes,” he replied; “and you?”
“I am also,” was my answer. What other reply could I make? “I believe the Professor is up in Scotland,” I added.
“But where is Antonio and all the other servants?” he argued.
“Well,” I said, “their master being absent, they may all be out, spending the evening; servants have a habit of doing so in the absence of their masters.”
“Then how do you account for the movements I have heard inside?” he asked. “No; if the servants are out, then the thieves are within. Will you stay here to bar their exit, while I go out and find a constable?”
Mention of the police caused me to wince. This young man was in ignorance of what had really occurred.
“I should remain patient a little while if I were you,” I said. “Antonio may return at any moment; he surely cannot have gone far.”
“On the contrary, I think he has.”
“Why?”
“Well, curiously enough, this afternoon, when I alighted from the Paris express and was passing through the buffet at Calais, I caught sight of a man who strangely resembled him. He turned his head and hurried away. At the moment I failed to recognise the likeness, and not until half an hour later, when the boat was already on its way across to Dover, did I recollect that he was very like the Professor’s faithful Antonio.”