"Now, hold on," said Morgan, soothingly. "We'll take it bit by bit. First, where did you pinch that emerald again?"
"From Kyle, the dastardly villain! I lifted it out of his cabin not five minutes ago. Oh, he had it, all right! We've got him now; and if Captain Whistler doesn't have me a medal… "
"From Kyle?… Don't gibber, my dear Curt," commanded Morgan, pressing his hands to his temples again. "I can't stand any more gibbering. You couldn't have got it from Kyle's cabin. It was returned to Lord—"
"Now, Hank, old man," interposed Warren with an air of friendly reasonableness. "I ought to know where I got it, oughtn't I? You'll at least admit that? Well, it was in Kyle's cabin. I sneaked in there to get the goods on the villain, the way Lord Gerald did when Sir Geoffrey's gang thought they had him imprisoned in the house at Moorfens. And I've got the goods on him… Oh, by the way," said Warren, remembering something exultantly. He thrust his hand into the breast pocket of his coat and drew out a thick bundle. "I also got all his private papers, too."
"You did what?"
"Well, I sort of opened all his bags and trunk and briefcases and things… "
"But, I say, howevah did the deah boy get out of gaol?" inquired Mrs. Perrigord. She had dried her tears, adjusted her monocle again, and she watched breathlessly with her
hands against her breast. "I think it's most, owfully, screamingly, delightfully clevah of him to…"
There was a quick knock at the door.
"They're after him!" breathed Peggy, whirling round with wide eyes. "Oh, they're a-after the p-poor darling to t him back in that horrible brig. Oh, don't let them