Before the decanter was finished Rawson and his satellites had departed. Sir Bertram glanced at his watch.
“You have nearly an hour,” he said. “What time did you tell Holmes you would leave?”
“At ten o’clock,” Gregory replied. “The train leaves Norwich at eleven-thirty.”
Sir Bertram rose from his place. They strolled into the library, drank coffee and liqueurs, and lit cigarettes. There was still nothing in their conversation to indicate the great crisis. Henry was the first to introduce a note of unexpectedness.
“If I may claim ten minutes of your time, Gregory,” he said, “it would gratify me if you would pay a visit to my room. You too, I trust, Bertram,” he added.
“Why, of course, Uncle,” Gregory acquiesced. “I’ll just fill my case with these cigarettes, if you don’t mind, Dad. May save me opening my travelling bag.”
“By all means,” his father begged.
They ascended the great staircase, Gregory pausing every now and then to look at one of his favourite pictures. Henry led the way to his own room with its quaint air of monasticity and severity, accentuated by the oriel-shaped windows. He closed the door carefully behind him.
“I should like before you depart, Gregory,” he began, “to assure you that my sympathies have been entirely with you in your gallant but non-successful attempt to restore the fortunes of our family. I may, or may not agree with you in your decision that these”—he waved his hand towards the two Images—“should remain unbroken. There are times,” he went on, “when I fancy that our friend there with the very evil and mocking leer is trying to boast of the treasures he possesses, and with which he refuses to part. That, however, is an effort of the imagination in which I seldom indulge. It occurred to me further that I should like, before you leave, to prove to you that my sympathy with your enterprise was not confined to a merely passive attitude. My actions may not have been entirely judicious, but they were well-intentioned. It was I who on a certain night made use of your key, entered the Great House in, I must confess, a surreptitious manner, relieved myself of interference on the part of Mr. Johnson, I am afraid in somewhat inconsiderate fashion, and purloined the manuscripts, which I had hoped might help us towards the discovery of the treasure.”
The cigarette which Sir Bertram had been holding between his fingers slipped on to the carpet and lay there almost unnoticed. He gazed at his brother with a great astonishment in his face. Gregory, taken even more by surprise, stared at him, speechless and open-mouthed. Neither of them said a word. Henry stooped down, picked up the lighted cigarette, and threw it into the fireplace.