His brother looked at him blankly.

"Your ape is stolen?" he repeated.

"The skeleton of my anthropoid ape," the Professor continued, his voice
growing alike in sadness and firmness. "It is the curator of the museum
who is speaking. They have just opened the box. It has lain for two days
in an anteroom. It is empty!"

Lord Ashleigh muttered something a little vague. The theft of a skeleton
scarcely appeared to his unscientific mind to be a realisable thing. The
Professor turned back to the telephone.

"Mr. Francis," he said, "I cannot talk to you. I can say nothing. I shall
come to you at once. I am on the point of starting. Your news has
overwhelmed me."

He laid down the receiver. He looked around him like a man in a nightmare.

"The taxicab is still waiting, sir," Craig reminded him.

"That is most fortunate," the Professor pronounced. "I remember now that I
had no change with which to pay him. I must go back. Look after my
brother. And, Craig, telephone at once to Mr. Sanford Quest. Ask him to
meet me at the museum in twenty minutes. Tell him that nothing must stand
in the way. Do you hear?"

The man hesitated. There was protest in his face.

"Mr. Sanford Quest, sir?" he muttered, as he followed his master down the