“I have no desire to search your office,” he said quietly, “or perhaps I should say no further desire, for I have already methodically examined every hole and corner. No,” he checked the words on Spedding’s lips, “no, it was not I who committed the blundering burglary you spoke of. You never found traces of me, I’ll swear. You may keep the keys of your strong-room, and I shall not trouble your bankers.”
“What do you want?” demanded the lawyer shortly.
“I want to see what you have got downstairs,” was the reply, and there was no doubting its earnestness, “and more especially do I want to see the red envelope.”
The lawyer bent his brows in thought. His eyes were fixed unwaveringly on Jimmy’s.
“Suppose,” he said slowly, “suppose that such an envelope did exist, suppose for the sake of argument these mysterious vaults and secret chambers are, as you suggest, in existence, what right have you, more than any other one of the beneficiaries under the will, to demand a private examination? Why should I give you an unfair advantage over them?”
Jimmy rose to his feet and stretched himself before replying.
“There is only one legatee whom I recognize,” he said briefly, “that is the girl. The money is hers. I do not want a farthing. I am equally determined that nobody else shall touch a penny—neither my young friend Connor”—he stopped to give emphasis to the next two words—“nor yourself.”
“Sir!” said the outraged Mr. Spedding.
“Nor yourself, Mr. Spedding,” repeated Jimmy with conviction. “Let us understand each other thoroughly. You are, as I read you, a fairly respectable citizen. I would trust you with ten or a hundred thousand pounds without experiencing the slightest anxiety. I would not trust you with two millions in solid cash, nor would I trust any man. The magnitude of the sum is calculated to overwhelm your moral sense. The sooner the red envelope is in the possession of Angel Esquire the better for us all.”
Spedding stood with bent head, his fingers nervously stroking his jaw, thinking.