Kent's pursuit of the detective took longer than he had anticipated, and it was after midnight before he finally located him at the office of the Chief of Detectives in the District Building."I've called for the envelope you took from my safe early this evening,"he began without preface, hardly waiting for the latter's surprised greeting.
"Why, Mr.Kent, I left it lying on the porch table at the club,"declared Ferguson."Didn't you take it?""No." Kent's worried expression returned."Like a fool I forgot the envelope when that cheering broke out in the dining room and rushed to find out what it was about; when I returned to the porch the envelope was gone.
"Disappeared?" questioned Ferguson in astonishment.
"Disappeared absolutely; I searched the porch thoroughly and couldn't find a trace of it," Kent explained."And in spite of McIntyre's contention that it might have blown out of the window, I am certain it did not.""The windows were open, and I recollect there was a strong draught,"remarked Ferguson thoughtfully."But not sufficient to carry away that envelope.""Exactly." Kent stepped closer."Did you observe which one of our companions stood nearest the porch table?"Ferguson eyed him curiously."Say, are you insinuating that one of those people took your envelope?""Yes."
A subdued whistle escaped Ferguson."What was in that envelope.
Mr.Kent," he demanded, "to make it of any value to that bunch?" and as Kent did not answer immediately, he added, "Are you sure it had nothing to do with Jimmie Turnbull's death and Philip Rochester's disappearance?""Quite sure." Kent's gaze did not waver before his penetrating look.
"I have already told you that the envelope contained old love letters, and I very naturally do not wish them to fall into the hands of Colonel McIntyre, the father of the girl I hope to marry."Ferguson smiled understandingly."I see.From what I know of Colonel McIntyre there's a very narrow, nagging spirit concealed under his frank and engaging manner; I wish you joy of your future father-in-law," and he chuckled.
"Thanks," dryly."You haven't answered my question as to who stood nearest the porch table, Ferguson."The detective looked thoughtful."We all stood fairly near; perhaps Mrs.Brewster was a shade the nearest.Mr.Clymer was offering her a chair when that noise came from the dining room.There's one thing I am willing to swear to" - his manner grew more earnest -" that envelope was still lying on the table when I hustled into the dining room.""Well, who was the last person to leave the porch?" Kent demanded eagerly.
"I don't know," was the disappointing answer."I reached the door at the same moment you did and passed right around the dining room to get a view of what was going on.I thought I would take a squint at the tables and see if there was any wine being used," he admitted.
"But there was nothing doing in that line.Then Mr.Clymer offered to bring me down to Headquarters, and I left the club with him."Kent took a turn about the room."Did Mr.Clymer go to the Cosmos Club?" he asked, pausing by the detective.
"No, I heard him tell his chauffeur to drive to the Saratoga.Want to use the telephone?" observing Kent's glance stray to the instrument.
