“Fairly long. The sergeant regarded me at first as most officials regard the amateur, but he was interested before I left. It seems that he regards your father’s case as the one unsatisfactory spot on his record. It’s odd to talk to a man who is so blunt and at the same time has to admit that he’s beaten.”
“But you haven’t told me yet. I know by your face there’s something.”
“Yes,” he admitted, “there is. Will you let me know what you can about a small image that came from Burma?”
“The jade god?” she said swiftly.
“Yes—or devil.”
“How extraordinary! Have you come to that, too?”
“Or else it came to me. Look!”
She shrank involuntarily, then, without touching the thing he had taken from his pocket, stared at it closely.
“Are there two? Where did you find that?”
“No,” he smiled, “this is a cast in green wax made from a mold I took of the image itself. I—” he hesitated—“I did not like to carry the original about with me.”