“That’s right, but I wouldn’t be so sure about bail in this case.”
“And the only damage is to the French window?”
“That’s for you to say, sir. It’s your house.”
Derrick turned to Blunt. “You have come here in search of a certain thing. In that I believe you have told the truth, but as to what may follow if you don’t get it, that’s another story. I do accept what you said about the image, and that it has for some reason an evil effect. It is not necessary to go into that any further, but since the thing is evil, it should no longer exist, and—”
Blunt leaped to his feet. “What are you going to do?”
“First leave it to the sergeant to decide whether he keeps you here till the inquest, and—”
“I’ll certainly do that,” put in Burke.
“Well, after that’s over there will be no reason for you to stay in England any longer. You can go back to the Mong Hills and tell them that the image does not exist. It won’t.”
“You’ll destroy it?” whispered Blunt, aghast.
“Yes. If it’s the evil thing you say, and I believe you, it ought to be destroyed. If it isn’t, you’ve been lying, which I don’t believe. I’ve learned something from all this, Blunt,” he added thoughtfully, “and my mind is made up. Good morning, sergeant.”