"Oh, for God's sake!" I said in some disgust. "Stop that kind of talk and listen to reason. Do we get a chance to explain? This is more serious than you think."
"It can't be more serious than I think," he informed me. "I took a long shot and it's come off. You can explain at the police station." He considered. Without a doubt, there was enough evidence against us to send the Archangel Gabriel to clink; he knew he was right; and he began to see himself as a hero.
"Here," he added thoughtfully. "This is a story that'll interest the outside world. Just to do your duty, you might ring up the `Press' office. It's — it's a story that'll interest every London paper too. I don't think it's too late to get it in; but anyway there'll be room in Stop Press-"
And also a tasty morsel for Major-General Sir Edward Kent-Fortescue Cheyne to read when he opened his paper at breakfast.
"That," I said, "would be fine publicity for the hotel, wouldn't it? Yes, it would. In your eye. Then you'll have neither the reward nor your job. Will you allow us to prove. who we are? Also, do you mind if I take my hands down?"
He studied this. "Right. But put your hands in your pockets and keep 'em there." Then the porter handed him the long red-sealed envelope which vas the will-o'-the-wisp we had been chasing throughout this entire case, and which was now passing irretrievably out of my hands. "What's in this?"
"Just some papers."
"Probably some more counterfeit money."
"Well, why don't you open it and see, then?" I said. I was in such a heat of wild curiosity to know what that envelope contained that, at the moment, I should not have minded if he had read whatever was in it. "Go ahead — open it."
"Trap of some kind, eh?" he said swiftly. He contemplated the envelope. "Anyhow, we'll see later. Here, Frank. Take this envelope downstairs with you and lock it up in the safe."