“Why?” demanded Alan, who had quite anticipated the question.
“Because he wanted the peacock.”
“So did Miss Inderwick, so did many other people. Everyone who knows the story would like to find the jewels.” Alan paused for a reply but as none came he continued coolly: “How did you trace the possession of the peacock to Baldwin Grison?”
“I didn’t—that is, I did in a way,” stammered the Indian nervously.
“In what way?” asked Fuller relentlessly, and trying to make Bakche tell what was already known to him, “for instance how did you come to live at Miss Grison’s boarding-house?”
“I explained when I met you there, sir.”
Fuller laughed ironically. “You did, and I beg leave to doubt the truth of the explanation, Mr. Bakche.”
“How dare you, sir; by what right do you doubt me?” demanded the man furiously, and his dark eyes shot fire.
“By the doubt of common-sense. You were in search of the peacock in order to gain a clue to the hiding-place of these jewels you claim. Come now, Mr. Bakche, it was not mere chance that guided you to Miss Grison, who of all the people in London, knew about the matter.”
Morad-Bakche looked sullenly at the carpet, and evidently saw that Alan was one too many for him. After a long pause, which Fuller took care not to terminate too soon, he looked up with a would-be frank smile. “As I wish you to help me in the matter,” he declared, “I may as well make a clean breast of what I know.”