"Well," said Edwards, "I suppose you will get your own way, as you usually do. Shall I be expected to be present?"
"Naturally," said I, "who else will make the post mortem?"
That evening I strolled down to the Residency, as I was now allowed to do, and sat among the orange trees talking to the Consul-General who, I discovered, shared my eagerness to inspect the Girdle. He confessed to me that on more than one occasion he had surreptitiously peeped into the safe, but as the belt still had my rope wound round it, he could not satisfy his curiosity to any extent, and he did not like to take off the rope until he had my permission to do so.
"Has it ever struck you, sir," I said, "that our friend Edwards is a little bit afraid of it?"
"Well, do you know," he replied, "now that you mention it, I believe that he is. I have suggested once or twice that we should ask you to show us your prize, and he has always put me off by saying that he did not think that your nerves were strong enough to stand the strain, as the sight of the Girdle would bring back so many memories."
I laughed outright, and vouchsafed that, in my opinion, the person with the shaky nerves was Edwards himself.
The words were hardly out of my mouth than I saw the subject of our conversation striding across the courtyard towards us.
"You look as if you had something very important to tell us, George," said I.
"So I have," he replied. "News that will set you thinking."
"I know what it is," I said. "The Golden Girdle has escaped, and you have seen it flying back towards the desert."