"Why did you not speak to Miss Carrol?"
"I hadn't a chance," said Harry simply. "I guessed that I was being followed."
"By the priest with the scar?"
"No. By a smaller and slighter-built chap. He dodged at my heels in the fog, so I had just time to shove the box into Miss Carrol's hand--into my mother's hands, as I thought--and then run off in the hope the little beast would follow me."
"He did, didn't he?"
"For a time. Then I fancy his suspicions must have been aroused by the red light, and by my stopping for a moment. I lost him, or he lost me in the fog, and then, instead of returning to my lodgings in Pimlico, I made for Limehouse Docks. I heard next morning of the death."
"Why didn't you then come to The Home of Art?"
"What was the good, sir," remonstrated Pentreddle. "I should only have been knifed by those Japanese, and there would have been two murders instead of one. No, sir; I wasn't such a fool, as my going to The Home of Art wouldn't have brought my mother back to life. I bunked over to Amsterdam and lay low. Then I read in the papers how Miss Carrol had been robbed of the gem."
Colpster nodded. "You should have returned then."
"It was of no use, sir," said the sailor gloomily. "I knew that the emerald must have got back into the hands of the priests, and that they would return to Kitzuki, in Japan. I was certain, and I am now, that the big man with the scar on his cheek stabbed my mother, so I waited for the ship I told you about to go back to Japan and kill him. Then Isa wrote me and said if you saw me you could help me. But," Pentreddle looked at the emerald, "it seems to me that things are more muddled up than ever. Here is the Mikado Jewel, but where are the priests?"