“How are you, Alan,” he said, rising to greet his visitor, and looking as spick and span as though he had just stepped out of a bandbox. “I thought you had returned to your duties in Chancery Lane?”
“I go back the day after to-morrow,” replied the solicitor, shaking hands, and wondering if he was doing so with a man who ought to be in the New Bailey dock; “I came to say good-bye and to ask you to allow me to make a drawing of the peacock.”
“For what reason?” questioned Sorley suspiciously and uneasily.
“My reason is very apparent, sir. The riddle is to be read on the exterior of the peacock, you say?”
“I think so, since I have opened the bird and found nothing inside it.”
“Then I must have a representation of the article before my eyes in order that I may ponder over the signs.”
“What signs?”
“There you have me,” answered Fuller frankly; “so far as I can see there are no signs of hieroglyphics or writing on the bird, so I don’t see that it can in any way indicate the hiding-place of the Begum’s gems. But if I have a picture and examine everything about it carefully, I may hit on the solution.”
“You don’t appear to be very certain of success,” said Mr. Sorley dryly, “yet you told me that you were an adept at solving cryptograms.”
“If they consist of signs,” Alan explained cautiously, “and I can see no signs on the peacock. Well sir, will you let me draw it?”