"At all events, I found you, but could do
nothing to rouse you. So I called Jean, and he helped me get you
upstairs again."
"Where does Jean sleep?"
"In the servants' quarters, on the third floor, in the rear of the
house."
"It must have taken you some time..."
"Several minutes, I fancy. Jean sleeps soundly."
"When you came back with him--or at any time--did you see or hear--?"
"Nothing out of the normal--nobody. Indeed, I at first believed you had
somehow managed to overexert yourself and had fainted--or had tripped
on something and, falling, hurt your head."
"Later, then, you found reason to revise that theory?"
"Not till early this morning."
"Please tell me..."
"Well, you see ... It all seemed so strange, I couldn't sleep when I
went back to bed, I lay awake, puzzled, uneasy. It was broad daylight
before I noticed that the screen which stands in front of my safe was
out of place. The safe is built into the solid wall, you know. I got up
then, and found the safe door an inch or so ajar. Whoever opened it
last night, closed it hastily and neglected to shoot the bolts.
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