“Give me that. It is mine. Felkin risked his life to save it for me.”
Inspector Etty, however, stood close by, and before Philip Baddock realised what Lady Molly meant to do, she had turned quickly and placed the bundle in the inspector’s hands.
“You know me, Etty, don’t you?” she said rapidly.
“Oh, yes, my lady!” he replied.
“Then take the utmost care of this bundle. It contains proofs of one of the most dastardly crimes ever committed in this country.”
No other words could have aroused the enthusiasm and caution of Etty in the same manner.
After that Philip Baddock might protest, might rage, storm, or try to bribe, but the proofs of his guilt and Captain de Mazareen’s innocence were safe in the hands of the police, and bound to come to light at last.
But, as a matter of fact, Baddock neither stormed nor pleaded. When Lady Molly turned to him once more he had disappeared.
* * * * *
You know the rest, of course. It occurred too recently to be recounted. Philip Baddock was found the next morning with a bullet through his head, lying on the granite stone which, with cruel hypocrisy, he himself had erected in memory of Mr. Steadman whom he had so foully murdered.