“Quite ingenious,” admitted George condescendingly. “But it remains to be seen—”
Anthony laughed.
“The proof of the pudding’s in the eating—eh? Well, I’ll soon settle that for you.” He sprang to his feet. “I’ll go to the library—”
He got no further. M. Lemoine moved forward from the window.
“Just one moment, Mr. Cade. You permit, Lord Caterham?”
He went to the writing-table and hurriedly scribbled a few lines. He sealed them up in an envelope, and then rang the bell. Tredwell appeared in answer to it. Lemoine handed him the note.
“See that that is delivered at once, if you please.”
“Very good, sir,” said Tredwell.
With his usual dignified tread he withdrew.
Anthony, who had been standing, irresolute, sat down again.
“What’s the big idea, Lemoine?” he asked gently.
There was a sudden sense of strain in the atmosphere.
“If the jewel is where you say it is—well, it has been there for over seven years—a quarter of an hour more does not matter.”
“Go on,” said Anthony. “That wasn’t all you wanted to say?”
“No, it was not. At this juncture, it is—unwise to permit any one person to leave the room. Especially if that person has rather questionable antecedents.”
Anthony raised his eyebrows, and lighted a cigarette.