“You couldn’t be a little more explicit?” the other persisted.
The silence which followed was portentous, charged with electricity. It was Sir Bertram who laid his hand gently upon his son’s shoulder.
“Gregory is rather sensitive about this business,” he said. “Considering all that he went through, I do not wonder at it. If ever it becomes expedient for us to explain exactly how the second Image came into our possession, we will do so. That moment scarcely seems to have yet arrived.”
Major Holmes abandoned the subject a little abruptly. He walked along the great corridor with its rows of pictures upon one side and mullioned windows on the other, speechless and absorbed. The whole place seemed flooded with afternoon sunshine which found its way into the gloomiest corners, touching some old suits of armour with a gleam of fire, tracing zigzag hieroglyphics upon the smooth white stone floor. He had made up his mind what course of action to adopt and it had not been an easy task. He sent for Inspector Cloutson and stood making his adieux to his hosts. At the last minute he drew Gregory on one side.
“I hear you are starting off on another of your long rambles, Gregory,” he said.
“Something a little more permanent this time. I am going to try the Far West first—lose myself for a year or two. Nothing definite seems to be known just yet, but there are rumours that there have been some big finds of gold right up the Yukon. If I don’t have any luck, I shall come back and try ranching. I’ve got a job out there.”
“It’s true then, what they are saying?” the Major continued diffidently. “Things here are pretty bad?”
“Rotten,” Gregory admitted. “Unless a miracle happens, such as those jewels materialising, or something of that sort, Ballaston must go before the autumn.”
“It is bad news,” the other sighed. “It is almost a tragedy. Enough to drive any one crazy,” he added, his rather kindly eyes resting for a moment upon Gregory’s face. “I am going to give you a word of advice, if I may. We were at school together, and I practically owe my position here to your father. I shall have to settle with my conscience for saying it—I may decide to chuck up my job—but I’m going to say it. If you’ve got your kit ready, move off. I don’t like the look of things down here for you. That’s all.”
For a moment Gregory was speechless—not exactly from surprise but from some mixture of emotions which found outlet in speech difficult. Then he suddenly took the hand which Holmes had extended and wrung it.