The Professor, who had been looking on as though dazed, suddenly intervened.

“Mr. French,” he said earnestly, “I am convinced that you are making a great mistake.  In arresting and taking away Mr. Quest, you are removing from us the one man who is likely to be able to clear up this mystery.”

The Inspector pushed him gently on one side.

“You will excuse me, Professor,” he said, “but this is no matter for argument.  If Mr. Quest can clear himself, no one will be more glad than I.”

Quest shrugged his shoulders.

“The Inspector will have his little joke,” he observed drily.  “It’s all right, girls.  Keep cool,” he went on, as he saw the tears in Lenora’s eyes.  “Come round and see me in the Tombs, one of you.”

“If I can be of any assistance,” the Professor exclaimed, “I trust that you will not fail to call upon me, Mr. Quest.  I repeat, Inspector,” he added, “I am convinced that you are making a very grave mistake.  Mrs. Rheinholdt, you must let me take you home.”

She gave him her arm.

“My jewels!” she sobbed.  “Just as they had been recovered, too!”

“My dear lady,” the Professor reminded her, with a faint air of reproach in his tone, “I think we must remember that we are in the presence of a graver tragedy than the loss of a few jewels."...

The ambulance men came and departed with their grim burden, the room on the ground floor was locked and sealed, and the house was soon empty except for the two girls.  Towards three o’clock, Lenora went out and returned with a newspaper.  She opened it out upon the table and they both pored over it.—­

    “Well-known criminologist arrested for double tragedy!

“Sanford Quest, the famous New York criminologist, was arrested at noon to-day, charged with the murder of his valet, Ross Brown, and Miss Quigg, Salvation Army canvasser.  The crime seems to be mixed up in some mysterious fashion with others.  John D. Martin, of signal tower Number 10, offered by Quest as an alibi, was found dead behind his tower.  Quest claimed that he travelled from the signal tower to New York on a freight train, leaving his automobile behind, but neither machine nor chauffeur have been discovered.

    “Justice Thorpe has refused to consider bail.”

“He’s a guy, that Justice Thorpe, and so’s the idiot who wrote this stuff!” Laura exclaimed, thrusting the paper away from her.  “I guess the Professor was dead right when he told French he was locking up the one man who could clear up the whole show.”

Lenora nodded thoughtfully.

“The Professor spoke up like a man,” she agreed, “but, Laura, I want to ask you something.  Did you notice his servant—­that man Craig?”

“Can’t say I did particularly,” Laura admitted.

“Twice,” Lenora continued, “I thought he was going to faint.  I tell you he was scared the whole of the time.”