“Mr. Marsham,” he said, “I am afraid this will be a difficult affair.  I am going to take the liberty of calling in an expert.  Hello.  I want Number One, New York City—­Mr. Sanford Quest.”

4.

There seemed to be nothing at all original in the methods pursued by the great criminologist when confronted with this tableau of death and robbery.  His remarks to the Inspector were few and perfunctory.  He asked only a few languid questions of Macdougal and Lenora, who were summoned to his presence.

“You had left the hotel, I understand, at the time when the crime occurred?” he asked the latter.

Macdougal, grave and respectful, made his answers with difficulty.  His voice was choked with emotion.

“I brought my mistress home from the Opera, sir.  I rode on the box with Mrs. Delarey’s chauffeur.  After I had seen her safely in the hotel, I went up to my room for two minutes and left the hotel by the back entrance.”

“Any one see you go?”

“The door-keeper, sir, and I passed a page upon the stairs.”

“Wasn’t it rather late for you to go out?”

“My days are a little dull here, sir,” Macdougal replied, “and my attendance is not required early in the morning.  I have made some friends in the city and I usually go out to a restaurant and have some supper.”

“Quite natural,” Mr. Quest agreed.  “That will do, thanks.”

Macdougal turned towards the door.  Lenora was about to follow him but Quest signed to her to remain.

“I should like to have a little conversation with you about your mistress,” he said to her pleasantly.  “If you don’t mind, I will ask you to accompany me in my car.  I will send the man back with you.”

For a moment the girl stood quite still.  Her face was already ghastly pale.  Her eyes alone seemed to indicate some fresh fear.

“I will go to my rooms and put on my hat,” she said.

Quest pointed through the half-open door.

“That will be your hat and coat upon the bed there, won’t it?” he remarked.  “I am sorry to hurry you off but I have another appointment.  You will send, of course, for the young lady’s friends,” he added, turning to Mr. Marsham, “and cable her people.”

“There is nothing more you can do, Mr. Quest?” the hotel manager asked, a little querulously.  “This affair must be cleared up for the credit of my hotel.”

Quest shrugged his shoulders.  He glanced through the open door to where Lenora was arranging her coat with trembling fingers.

“There will be very little difficulty about that,” he said calmly.  “If you are quite ready, Miss Lenora.  Is that your name?”

“Lenora is my name, sir,” the girl replied.

They descended in the elevator together and Quest handed the girl into his car.  They drove quickly through the silent streets.  The snow had ceased to fall and the stars were shining brightly.  Lenora shivered as she leaned back in her corner.