"What is the meaning of this, Lord Porthoning?" I demanded as sternly as I could.
My courage was failing me. I felt that the joke, after all, had been a severe one. Lord Porthoning seemed almost on the point of collapse. His eyes never once left the brooch which I was holding.
"I didn't take it!" he gasped. "I swear I didn't take it!"
I was anxious now to finish the affair.
"Lord Porthoning," I said, "I will take your word. You say you never took the brooch. Very well; we will assume, for the sake of the family, that it found its way into your pocket by accident."
Lord Porthoning felt his forehead. There were big drops of sweat standing out there. There was something in his extreme agitation that was, in a way, incomprehensible. He edged toward the door.
"I didn't take it!" he muttered. "Let me go! Let me get away!"
Mr. Bundercombe stood on one side. My hand was on the handle of the door. I looked at my father-in-law questioningly. My sympathies were now almost with the enemy, but I felt bound to see the affair through.
"It was you who discovered this little accident," I remarked. "I think you will agree with me that it is best to say nothing more about it."
Mr. Bundercombe once more winked at me solemnly over the head of my stricken connection.