“What have you done with the necklace you took? Got it on you still?”
“Course not. D’ye think I’ve come passenger’s luggage in advance?”
“Run him over, Roper.” Roper’s search was rapid and thorough.
“Not in any of his pockets, sir,” he announced.
“I’ll take a chance then,” said Baddeley. “Take off his coat and waistcoat.” Roper obeyed, throwing them over to Sir Charles who handed them to Arkwright, and I saw a look of desperation flit across the “Spider’s” face. Baddeley walked quickly over to him. He passed his fingers carefully across his shirt and then thrust his hand fiercely underneath it. He lugged at something under Webb’s armpit and all the malevolence of the underworld was revealed in the “Spider’s” eyes as he fell back a pace or two. Baddeley tossed his find on the table. Our eyes sought it greedily.
“There you are, gentlemen,” he cried with triumph. “The Considine Necklace, if I am not mistaken.”
Sir Charles caught it up. A small oilskin bag with two attachments of tape. He pulled the top open. “I congratulate you most heartily, Inspector Baddeley, the pearls are here.” He counted them. “And intact.”
The Inspector flushed with pleasure. “Dress him again, Roper,” he jerked ... “and take him along.”
Arkwright handed the clothes over.
“Pockets empty?” queried Baddeley. Roper proceeded to examine them. “Packet of cigarette-papers”—he threw them on the table—“box of matches, clasp-knife, nothing else ... stay though ...” he plunged his hand into the left-hand jacket pocket. “There’s something else here ...” he said, “tape or something.” He drew it out!