“Very great reason, I should say—you cannot for a moment suppose that his lordship would like his private affairs dragged before any court of law for the sake of a public prosecution. Rest assured, my friend, that we have acted wisely in letting the rascal go about his business. In any case, even assuming he had been convicted, blame would attach itself to you.”
“So it would—I admit that. You take a very sensible view of the matter. Let the matter blow over, and say as little about it as possible,” returned Mr. Wrench, with sudden warmth.
“You have shown great wisdom throughout, and I have once more to return you my most sincere thanks.”
“Oh, there’s no need for that” replied Peace, carelessly. “One thing is, however, quite certain: the gipsy cove was employed by some one to abstract the jewellery from the bureau. There could be but ohe object in this—to remove the traces of identity.”
“I came to that conclusion some hours ago. You are quite right, and we have had a narrow escape—a very narrow escape,” said Mr. Wrench, with something like a shudder. “Had they succeeded in carrying it off I don’t know what would have been the consequence. To me it would have been most disastrous. I see good reason to be thankful for the issue. But who could have thrown the paper and stone into your window?”
“I haven’t the faintest notion, but probably I may discover before very long. Anyway, I shall make inquiries. But for the present I must bid you good-day, for I have business matters to attend to,” said Peace, rising from his seat and making towards the door of the club-room.
“Good day for the present,” returned the detective, and so the two parted.
In a few minutes after this Henry Adolphus, his lordship’s footman, presented himself, and informed the detective that the Earl and Mr. Chicknell were awaiting his appearance at the Hall.
Mr. Wrench lost no time in paying his respects to his two employers. He made them acquainted with the successful nature of his expedition to Wood-green, his interview with Mrs. Maitland, and wound up by producing the trinkets, which had been so miraculously rescued from the clutches of “Bandy-legged Bill,” the gipsy.
Lord Ethalwood snatched the case and its contents from the officer. He examined the trinkets, and as he did so a bright flush overspread his features.