They certainly had, for papers and books were strewn all over the floor.
“Have you missed anything?” I asked quickly.
“One thing only. It is, I regret to say, that parchment deed of yours with the seven signatures. They’ve taken nothing else but that, although here, as you see, is an illuminated Horæ worth at least £300, and the twelfth-century St. Bernardus that Quaritch bid £200 for at Sotheby’s last week.”
“They were expert thieves,” the detective remarked, “and were evidently in search of something which they knew the gentleman had in his possession.”
“But the book—the book containing the cipher!” I cried, dismayed, the truth dawning upon me that the burglars had been in search of those documents of mine.
“Fortunately, they were unable to secure it,” was old Mr. Staffurth’s reply. “I had locked it in the safe here as a precaution against its destruction by fire.” And he indicated the good-sized safe that stood in the opposite corner of the room. “You see upon it marks of their desperate efforts to open it, but with all their drills, chisels, wedges, and such-like things they were not successful. The secret of the cipher is still ours.”
“Then they were hired burglars?” I said.
“That seems most probable, sir,” replied the detective. “Such a thing is not by any means unusual. They were professionals at the game, whoever they were.”
CHAPTER XV
REVEALS SOMETHING OF IMPORTANCE
The thieves had made a thorough search of old Mr. Staffurth’s study. Every hole and corner had been methodically examined, an operation which must have occupied considerable time.