Mrs. Brown found her voice.
"We'd better have the chair disinfected," she murmured to Ethel.
Then Mrs. de Vere Carter returned smiling to herself and eyeing the
young editor surmisingly.
"I witnessed a pretty scene the other day in a suburban
drawing-room...." It might begin like that.
William followed the amazing figure round the house again to the
library window. Here it turned to him with a friendly grin.
"I'm just goin' to 'ave that look round upstairs now. See?" he said.
"An' once more, yer don't need ter say nothin' to no one. See?"
With the familiar, beloved gesture he drew his old cap down over his
eyes, and was gone.
William wandered upstairs a few minutes later to find his visitor
standing at the landing window, his pockets bulging.
"I'm goin' to try this 'ere window, young gent," he said in a quick,
business-like voice. "I see yer pa coming in at the front gate. Give
me a shove. Quick, nar."
Mr. Brown entered the drawing-room.
"Mulroyd's had his house burgled now," he said. "Every bit of his
wife's jewellery gone. They've got some clues, though. It's a gang all
right, and one of them is a chap without ears. Grows his hair long to
hide it. But it's a clue. The police are hunting for him."
He looked in amazement at the horror-stricken faces before him. Mrs.
Brown sat down weakly.
"Ethel, my smelling salts! They're on the mantel-piece."
Robert grew pale.
"Good Lord--my silver cricket cup," he gasped, racing upstairs.
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