Mr. Janney could give no information as to Willitts’ whereabouts, but Dixon, entering with the cigar box and lamp, could. Willitts was at Cedar Brook where Mr. Price spent a good deal of time; he was still disengaged and looking for a position, if Mr. Ferguson would like Dixon would get word to him. Mr. Ferguson would like, and, the box presented at his elbow, he took out a cigar and held its tip to the lamp. Mr. Janney forgot Willitts and drew his guest’s attention to the cigar, a special brand of rare excellence. "We keep them in the safe," said the old man. "Only place that’s secure against the damp. It was Chapman’s idea—the one thing in my acquaintance with Chapman I’m grateful for." It was an unfortunate remark, for Ferguson, leaning back in his chair with the cigar between his lips, murmured dreamily: "The safe—do you know I’ve been thinking over things lately. I can’t understand one point. Why didn’t the thief take those jewels when the house was virtually empty instead of waiting until it was full?" Mr. Janney’s heart took a dizzying, downward dive. He had been looking forward to his smoke, now all his zest departed, his old, veined hand shaking as it felt in the box. Ferguson went on: "The fellow may have come in early and hidden himself—not got down to business until every one was asleep." Mr. Janney emitted an agreeing murmur and motioned Dixon to hold the lamp nearer. As he bent toward it the young man was silent and Mr. Janney began to hope that the obnoxious subject was abandoned. He sent a side glance at his guest and the hope was strengthened. Ferguson had taken his cigar from his lips and was looking at the paper band that encircled it. He was looking at it so intently that Mr. Janney felt sure his interest was diverted and sought to drive it into safer channels. "Pretty fine cigar, eh?" he said. "This is the first of a new lot, just come." Ferguson drew the band off and laid it beside his plate: "Excellent. That’s a good idea—keeping them in the safe. Do you always do it?" "Yes, it’s the only thing—much better than a humidor." "I haven’t got a safe or I’d try it. Did you have any there the night of the robbery?" Mr. Janney felt that the gods had sought him out for a special vengeance and murmured drearily: "I believe so—a few. Dixon knows." Dixon who was on his way to the door turned: "Yes, sir, only one box, the last we had." Ferguson laughed: "If the thief had had time to try one he’d have taken the box along too." Dixon, who treated all allusions to the subject with a tragical seriousness, said: "I don’t think he touched them, sir. The box looked just the same. Mr. Kissam was very particular to ask about it, but I told him I thought they was intact, as you might say. Though if it was the loss of one or two I couldn’t be certain."