They went into the bedroom, and the little Jew made for the safe. Reggie wandered across the room. It was a parquet floor with Persian rugs on it. He shifted one by the bedside. There was a small dark stain on the floor still not dry. An exclamation from Gordon made him turn. Gordon had the safe open, and the safe, but for some papers in disorder, was empty. “Not one bally bangle left!” Gordon cried. “Not a sparkle of the whole outfit! Remember that ruby and diamond breastplate! Remember her pearls! And the stuff that Indian Johnny gave her! My hat! Somebody’s had a haul.” A spasm crossed his face. “I say, doctor, you were here when I opened the safe!” “I was here,” Reggie said stolidly. “I wasn’t surprised.” The little Jew gasped. “You remember that emerald she always wore? It wasn’t on the dead body.” “Oh, God!” said Gordon, and with unsteady hands turned over the papers. “That’s her script. More or less all there, I should say. Where’s the will? I know she had her will. Drew it myself.” “What’s that?” Reggie said. The one untidy thing in that very tidy room, a paper lay by the fireplace. Gordon picked it up. “Here we are! Yes, ‘May Grace Weston, my companion.’ That’s the document. Crumpled up and torn!” He whistled. “As if Birdie was destroying it and then--biff!” “Just as if she’d been destroying it,” Reggie agreed. “That puts the lid on, don’t it!” said the little Jew. “Miss Weston-oh, lor, there’s a soft kid if you ever had one. Just shows you you never know with girls, doctor. Girls, girls, girls! Well, we’d better tell these bally policemen.” So Inspector Mordan, vastly to his satisfaction, was told, and Superintendent Bell, appearing from nowhere, heard, and agreed to search the house for the stolen jewels. “You gentlemen come too, please.” He cocked an eye at Reggie. “Want to keep me under observation?” Reggie grinned back. “Want you to identify what we find,” said the Inspector. “You’ll find something all right,” said Reggie. But he showed little interest in the search, mooning after their men in and out of servants’ bedrooms and yawning in corners. Inspector Mordan had gone straight to Miss Weston’s room, and from it he came glowing with triumph. He called for his Superintendent, he collected Reggie and Gordon. “You gentlemen happen to recognize that?” He opened his big hand and showed the ring with the big emerald which Birdie Bolton had loved. “That’s it,” Gordon cried. “That’s Birdie’s. Coo! What a stone, ain’t it?” “In Weston’s room,” the Inspector proclaimed, “on the floor; just under the bed, in Weston’s room.” “Only that and nothing more?” Reggie murmured. “Yes, where’s the rest, Mordan?” said Superintendent Bell. The Inspector smote his thigh. “By George, I see it! I let that rascal Ford see the wench alone. He’s gone off stuffed with the swag.”