And where was he, by the way? I had turned in my alarm a good
five minutes before.
In an unenviable humor I stumbled across the room, tripping and barking
my shins over various malignant hassocks, tables, and chairs. Finding
the switch at last, I flooded the room with light, and saw myself in the
mirror, with tie and coat askew.
"Now," I muttered, straightening them viciously, "we'll see what he
took away." But the trunk seemed undisturbed when I examined it, and my
various bags and suitcases were securely locked. I had found Forrest's
power of attorney and was storing it in my pocket when voices rose
outside.
A group of four was approaching, comprised of a spruce, dress-coated
manager; a short thick-set, broad-faced man who was doubtless the
long-overdue detective; a professional-appearing gentleman with a
black bag, obviously the house-physician; and the policeman that I had
summoned from his stroll below. The latter, in an excited brogue, was
recounting his late vision of the thief, "hangin' between hivin and
earth, no less," while the detective scornfully accused him of having
been asleep or jingled, on the ground of my late telephone to the effect
that I was holding the man.
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