“You carry vandalism beyond the conceivable limits of thought,” he declared. “The person who could destroy work such as that would deserve the fate which would probably befall him.”
“There are times,” Sir Bertram rejoined, “when necessity is compelling. Let us turn this from an abstract to a concrete discussion. My son risked his life to obtain this Image and the one which was unfortunately lost—risked it in the belief that it contained jewels of great value. Am I not right in saying, Mr. Endacott, that you could, if you would, assist us in the matter of obtaining those jewels?”
“I could,” Endacott replied quietly. “I have at the present moment a manuscript in my possession which I believe would solve the riddle.”
“You will not refuse your help then,” Sir Bertram persisted.
Endacott did not hesitate for a moment. His tone was acid, his manner brusque to the point of rudeness.
“I do most certainly and absolutely refuse,” he said. “To have removed the Images at all from their resting place was an unforgivable action. This spirit of loot you speak of presents itself to me as an act of common robbery. I refuse to countenance it. I refuse my help.”
There was a brief silence; awkward, yet in a sense dramatic. Henry Ballaston, who had been standing a little in the background, took a step forward, then paused. The parchment-like pallor of his face was almost ghastly. There were pin-pricks of fire in his cold, blue eyes. Nevertheless, he said nothing. Such words as had risen to his lips he repressed. Sir Bertram for a moment had looked frankly angry. He too, however, remained silent. Mr. Endacott turned his back upon the Image and strolled across towards the side-board.
“May I be privileged,” he asked, “to smoke one more of your excellent cigarettes? After which, I will beg you to excuse my niece and me. We have the habit of retiring early.”
Sir Bertram was at once the courteous host. The discussion was closed.
“I shall not attempt,” he said, “to do my few treasures the injustice of showing them by this light, but I hope, Mr. Endacott, that you will give me another opportunity of asking your opinion on them—you and your niece,” he added, turning with a smile to Claire. “You know we have quaint customs in England,” he went on. “We have laws by reason of which we become only the custodians of all our treasures. There are pictures here of great value and great beauty, and three generations of my family spent fortunes in collecting china.”