“I shall do so,” rejoined Bakche calmly, “when you are gone. But there is one she may not be able to answer.”
“Probably!” Alan shrugged his shoulders with feigned indifference, guessing what the question was, and not choosing to reply to it immediately.
But Bakche was not to be put off by a contemptuous manner. “Has Mr. Sorley given up the peacock to the police?” he demanded.
“I cannot say. If he has, the police will give it back to me.”
“Why should it be given back to you?”
“Because it is the property of Miss Inderwick; and until her uncle is free I intend to look after her interests.”
The other man sneered. “I can understand that.”
“If you do, there is no necessity for you to ask questions,” rejoined Alan coolly. “You are no client of mine, Mr. Bakche.”
“It would be better for you if I were.”
“I fail to see that. You want the peacock, and I don’t intend that you should have it, or the treasure either.”