“Well?” Alan cast a second look at the photograph.
“Well,” echoed Dick, rather annoyed, “can’t you draw an inference. I think, and Moon thinks, that the assassin murdered Grison in order to gain possession of the peacock, which was of great value. If he wants to make money out of it he will have to sell it, and in this way the inspector hopes to trap the beast. For that reason, and so that the assassin may not be placed on his guard, Moon doesn’t want anyone but you and me and himself to know the truth. You can’t guess why I have told you this.”
“Yes.” Alan nodded and rubbed his knees, while a puzzled look came over his dark clean-cut face. “I remember telling you about the fetish of the Inderwicks ages ago.”
“Tell me again as soon as you can withdraw your gaze from that photo.”
Fuller colored, and laughed consciously. “When a man is in love, much may be forgiven him. And you must admit, Dicky, that she’s the beauty of the world. Now isn’t she?”
Latimer eyed the photograph in his turn. “She’s pretty,” he said judicially.
“Pretty,” echoed Fuller with great indignation, “she’s an angel, and the loveliest girl ever created, besides being the most fascinating of women.”
“Oh, spare me your raptures,” broke in Dick impatiently. “Your taste in looks isn’t mine, and I’ve met Miss Marie Inderwick, which you seem to forget. She is very nice and very pretty and——”
“Oh, hang your lukewarm phraseology,” interrupted the other. “She’s the most adorable girl in the universe.”
“I admit that, for the sake of getting on with the business in hand. Now what about the peacock of jewels?”