“How should I know.” There was a note of defiance in the man’s voice.
“Because Mrs. Verwin declared that Bakche went to look at The Monastery. If he did, I think—from what you hinted just now—that you saw him.”
“Yes, I saw him, and what is more I spoke to him. Confound that woman! She chatters too much.”
“Why should she not?” questioned the solicitor. “The story of the peacock is well known—that is the history of its being a fetish of the Inderwicks. That it can reveal a treasure is not known, I fancy.”
“No. Quite so. After all Mrs. Verwin only said what everyone else can say, Alan. But I wish she hadn’t told Bakche about the Grisons.”
Fuller shrugged his shoulders. “What does it matter now. You have the peacock in your own possession.”
“Yes, I have the peacock, and if Bakche learns that, he may try and murder me. He is just the man—as you say—to stick at nothing.”
“Oh, then, that was what you meant when you hinted your fears to me on Christmas Day at the vicarage?”
“Yes.” Sorley wiped his face again, looking still gray and anxious, “and of course Miss Grison had brought back the peacock by that time. If I hadn’t got it I should not be so afraid. Ah,” he rose and began to walk up and down in a startled way. “I see her game now Alan. She will tell Bakche how I have the peacock and he will—and he will—oh Alan!”
The man gripped Fuller’s arm and appeared to be thoroughly frightened at the idea of a raid being made by the Indian. The solicitor gently forced Sorley to sit down again and asked for an explanation. “You must be frank with me if I am to help you,” said the solicitor.