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 rake the apartment over inch by inch," observed Vance. "But I don't think it necess'ry. The Major's a bold, cunning soul: witness his wide square forehead, the dominating stare of his globular eyes, the perpendicular spine, and the indrawn abdomen. He's forthright in all his mental operations. Like Poe's Minister D, he would recognize the futility of painstakingly secreting the jewels in some obscure corner. And anyhow, he had no object in secreting them. He merely wished to hide 'em where there'd be no chance of their being seen. This naturally suggests a lock and key, what? There was no such cache in the bed-room—which is why I came here."

He walked to a squat rose-wood desk in the corner, and tried all its drawers; but they were unlocked. He next tested the table drawer; but that, too, was unlocked. A small Spanish cabinet by the window proved equally disappointing.

"Markham, I simply must find a locked drawer," he said.

He inspected the room again, and was about to return to the bed-room when his eye fell on a Circassian-walnut humidor half hidden by a pile of magazines on the under-shelf of the center-table. He stopped abruptly, and going quickly to the box, endeavored to lift the top. It was locked.

"Let's see," he mused: "what does the Major smoke? Romeo y Julieta Perfeccionados, I believe—but they're not sufficiently valuable to keep under lock and key."

He picked up a strong bronze paper-knife lying