“Rather,” I replied. “Come and hear what Baddeley has to say.”
“What is it, Bill?” asked Mary, eagerly.
“Can’t tell you yet,” I whispered evasively, “but we’re on the track of the pearls—anyway!”
“This is extraordinarily good news,” said Sir Charles, as we went into the house. “How did Baddeley manage it?”
“It was Bathurst,” I replied. “You’ll hear what they have to say—and you’ll get a bit of a shock.”
He looked at me curiously. “Don’t be alarmed,” I said. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Thank you, Bill. To tell the truth you did startle me a bit ... I began to wonder ...” he wiped his forehead ... “it’s been a day of surprises.”
Baddeley speedily described our discoveries (I say “our”) and the result thereof. Sir Charles gasped.
“Marshall!” he exclaimed incredulously. “You astound me. And she came with such splendid references. Well, well, well, truly one never knows. My wife’s pearls, Inspector. Do you think there’s any probability of restoring them? You’ve done so splendidly that one becomes quite optimistic.” His eyes gleamed. “And you say you don’t really connect the affair with poor young Prescott?”
“At the moment, Sir Charles, I’m not inclined to link up the two ... and as for your praises”—he turned towards Anthony—“it’s Mr. Bathurst here that put me on the track.”