"This
is the room where Mr. Brainard works," she said. "Through that door is
his bedroom. Everything here except his clothing is my property. I
shall hold you rigidly responsible for any disorder you may create or
any damage you may do. Now you may go ahead."
"Let's have all your keys, Brainard," Gavegan choked out.
Larry handed them over. With Miss Sherwood, Hunt, and Larry looking
silently on, the two men began their examination. They began with the
papers on Larry's desk and in its drawers; and in all his life Gavegan
had not been so considerate in a search as he now was with Miss
Sherwood's blue eyes coldly upon him. They unlocked cabinets,
scrutinized their contents, shook out books, examined the backs of
pictures, took up rugs; then passed into Larry's bedroom. Miss
Sherwood made no move to follow the officers into that more intimate
apartment, and the other two watchers remained with her.
A minute passed. Then Gavegan reentered, a puzzled, half-triumphant
look on his red face, holding out a square of paint-covered canvas.
"Found this thing in Brainard's chiffonier. What the he--I mean what's
it doing out here?"
There was not an instant's doubt as to what the thing was. Larry
started, and Hunt started, and Miss Sherwood started. But it was Miss
Sherwood who first spoke.
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