"Accompanied by her husband," replied the manager stiffly. "Mrs. Scott had travelled and she had a hobby of taking photographs wherever she went. When my position accidentally came out one evening she was carried away by the novel idea of adding views of a safe deposit to her collection--as enthusiastic as a child. There was no reason why she should not; the place has often been taken for advertising purposes." "She came, and brought her camera--under your very nose!" "I do not know what you mean by 'under my very nose.' She came with her husband one evening just about closing time. She brought her camera, of course--quite a small affair." "And contrived to be in here alone?" "I take exception to the word 'contrived.' It--it happened. I sent out for some tea, and in the course--" "How long was she alone in here?" "Two or three minutes at the most. When I returned she was seated at my desk. That was what I referred to. The little rogue had put on my glasses and had got hold of a big book. We were great chums, and she delighted to mock me. I confess that I was startled--merely instinctively--to see that she had taken up this book, but the next moment I saw that she had it upside down." "Clever! She couldn't get it away in time. And the camera, with half-a-dozen of its specially sensitized films already snapped over the last few pages, by her side!" "That child!" "Yes. She is twenty-seven and has kicked hats off tall men's heads in every capital from Petersburg to Buenos Ayres! Get through to Scotland Yard and ask if Inspector Beedel can come up." The manager breathed heavily through his nose. "To call in the police and publish everything would ruin this establishment--confidence would be gone. I cannot do it without further authority." "Then the professor certainly will." "Before you came I rang up the only director who is at present in town and gave him the facts as they then stood. Possibly he has arrived by this. If you will accompany me to the boardroom we will see." They went up to the floor above, Mr. Carlyle joining them on the way. "Excuse me a moment," said the manager. Parkinson, who had been having an improving conversation with the hall porter on the subject of land values, approached. "I am sorry, sir," he reported, "but I was unable to procure any 'Rubbo.' The place appears to be shut up." "That is a pity; Mr. Carlyle had set his heart on it." "Will you come this way, please?" said the manager, reappearing. In the boardroom they found a white-haired old gentleman who had obeyed the manager's behest from a sense of duty, and then remained in a distant corner of the empty room in the hope that he might be over-looked. He was amiably helpless and appeared to be deeply aware of it.