"Because he hasn't got them," answered Godfrey, smiling with an evidently deep enjoyment of Grady's dazed countenance.
"Oh, come off!" said that worthy disgustedly. "If he hasn't got 'em
I'd like to know who has!"
"I have," said Godfrey, and cleared my desk with a sweep of his arm. "Spread out your handkerchief, Lester," and as I dazedly obeyed, he picked up the little leather bag, opened it, and poured out its contents in a sparkling flood. "There," he added, turning to Grady, "are the Michaelovitch diamonds."
CHAPTER XXVIII
CROCHARD WRITES AN EPILOGUE
For an instant, we gazed at the glittering heap with dazzled eyes; then Grady, with an inarticulate cry, sprang to his feet and picked up a handful of the diamonds, as though to convince himself of their reality.
"But I don't understand!" he gasped. "Have you got Croshar too?"
"No such luck," said Godfrey.
"Do you mean to say he'd give these up without a fight!"
The same thought was in my own mind; if Godfrey had run down Crochard and got the diamonds, without a life-and-death struggle, that engaging rascal must be much less formidable than I had supposed.