Part 29 (2/2)

”My friend,” the Professor said, ”your news gratifies me, of course. Your rehabilitation, however, was a matter of certainty. With me life has become a chaos. You can have no idea, with your independent nature, what it means to entirely rely upon the ministrations of one person and to be suddenly deprived of their help.”

”No news of Craig, then?” Quest demanded.

”None at all,” was the weary reply. ”What about your young lady a.s.sistant?”

”She'll be here in five minutes,” Quest told him. ”You had better come along and hear her story. It ought to interest you.”

”Dear me!” the Professor exclaimed. ”I will certainly come--certainly!”

Quest set down the receiver and paced the room thoughtfully for a moment or two. Although his own troubles were almost over, the main problem before him was as yet unsolved. The affair with the Gallaghers was, after all, only an off-shoot. It was the mystery of Lenora's abduction, the mystery of the black box, which still called for the exercise of all his ingenuity.

Inspector French was as good, even better, than his word. In a surprisingly short time he entered the room, followed by Laura and Lenora.

Quest gave them a hand each, but it was into Lenora's eyes that he looked.

Her coming, her few words of greeting, timid though they were, brought him an immense sense of relief.

”Well, girls,” he said, ”both full of adventures, eh? What did they do with you in the Tombs, Laura?”

”Pshaw! What could they do?” Laura replied. ”If they're guys enough to be tricked by a girl, the best thing they can do is to keep mum about it and let her go. That's about what they did to me.”

Inspector French, who was standing a little aloof, regarded Laura with an air of unwilling admiration.

”That's some girl, that Miss Laura,” he muttered in an undertone to Quest.

”She roasted us nicely.”

”I mustn't stop to hear your story, Lenora,” Quest said. ”You're safe--that's the great thing.”

”Found her in an empty house,” French reported, ”out Gayson Avenue way.

Now, Mr. Quest, I don't want to come the official over you too much, but if you'll kindly remember that you're an escaped prisoner--”

There was a knock at the door. A young man entered in chauffeur's livery, with his head still bandaged. Quest motioned him to come in.

”I'll just repeat my story of that morning, French,” Quest said. ”We went out to find Macdougal, and succeeded, as you know. Just as I was starting for home, those two thugs set upon me. They nearly did me up. You know how I made my escape. They went off in my automobile and sold it in Bethel. I arrested them there myself this morning. Here's the Sheriff, who will bear out what I say, also that they arrived at the place in my automobile.”

”Sure!” the Sheriff murmured.

”Further,” Quest continued, ”there's my chauffeur. He knows exactly what time it was when the tire of my car blew out, just as we were starting for New York.”

”It was eleven-ten, sir,” the chauffeur declared. ”Mr. Quest and I both took out our watches to see if we could make New York by mid-day. Then one of those fellows. .h.i.t me over the head and I've been laid up ever since. A man who keeps a store a little way along the road picked me up and looked after me.”

Inspector French held out his hand.

”Mr. Quest,” he said, ”I reckon we'll have to withdraw the case against you. No hard feeling, I hope?”

”None at all,” Quest replied promptly, taking his hand.

”That's all right, then,” French declared. ”I've brought two more men with me. Perhaps, Mr. Sheriff, you wouldn't mind escorting your prisoners around to headquarters? I'll be there before long.”

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