He turned away and approached the house. The front door stood open and he made his way at once to the library. The Professor, who was sitting at his desk surrounded by a pile of books and papers, addressed him, as he entered, without looking up.
“Where on earth have you been, Craig?” he enquired petulantly. “I have rung for you six times. Have I not told you never to leave the place without orders?”
“It is not Craig,” Quest replied quietly. “It is I, Professor—Sanford Quest.”
The Professor swung round in his chair and eyed his visitor in blank astonishment.
“Quest?” he exclaimed. “God bless my soul! Have they let you out already, then?”
“I came out,” Quest replied grimly. “Sit down and listen to me for a moment, will you?”
“You came out?” the Professor repeated, looking a little dazed. “You mean that you escaped?”
Quest nodded.
“Perhaps I made a mistake,” he admitted, “but here I am. Now listen, Professor. I know this will be painful to you, but give me your best attention for a few minutes. These young women assistants of mine have formed a theory of their own about the murder in my flat and the robbery of the jewels. Hold on to your chair, Professor. They believe that the guilty person was Craig.”
The Professor’s face was almost pitiful in its blank amazement. His mouth was wide open like a child’s, words seemed absolutely denied to him.
“That’s their theory,” Quest went on. “They may be right or they may be wrong—Lenora, at any rate, has collected some shreds of evidence. They hatched a scheme between them, clever enough in its way. They locked Craig up in your garage and got me out of the Tombs in Laura’s clothes. I have come straight up to find your garage open and Lenora missing.”
The Professor rose to his feet, obviously making a tremendous effort to adjust his ideas.
“Craig locked up in my garage?” he murmured. “Craig guilty of those murders? Why, my dear Mr. Quest, a more harmless, a more inoffensive, peace-loving and devoted servant than John Craig never trod this earth!”
“Maybe,” Quest replied, “but come out here, Mr. Ashleigh.”
The Professor followed his companion out to the garage. Quest showed him the open door and the marks of footsteps around where he had picked up the handkerchief.
“Now,” he said, “what has become of your man Craig, and what has become of my assistant Lenora?”
“Perhaps we had better search the house,” the Professor suggested. “Craig? My dear Mr. Quest, you little know—”
“Where is he, then?” Quest interrupted.
The Professor could do nothing but look around him a little vaguely. Together they went back to the house and searched it without result. Then they returned once more to the garage.
“I am going back,” Quest announced. “My only chance is the wireless. If Lenora is alive or at liberty, she will communicate with me.”