"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.
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