“You will have gray hairs by that time,” snapped her uncle, “and until he is Lord Chancellor, you certainly shan’t marry him.”
“I shall. So there.”
“You shall not.”
“Unless,” observed Alan smoothly, “you said unless, Mr. Sorley.”
“Unless you find the Begum’s treasure.”
“Oh, Uncle Ran,” cried Marie in dismay, “when you know that the peacock is lost, and without that no one can solve the riddle, or even know exactly what it is.”
“The peacock is——” began Sorley, and stopped short. “Never mind. Go away, my dear, and let me talk to Alan.”
He spoke so mildly that Marie began to think better of the position. He did not appear to be so dead against her marriage with Fuller, as his earlier words had intimated. Alan, on his part, guessed from the abrupt stopping of the sentence, that Sorley knew something about the missing peacock which he did not wish to reveal while Marie was in the room. Acting on this hint he took the bull by the horns.
“Look here, sir,” he said, rising to address his host more impressively, “I know that the discovery of this treasure is connected with some cryptogram which has to do with the lost peacock. I accept your terms, as, having experience in secret writings, I am sure that I can solve the mystery which has baffled everyone for so long. If I do, and the treasure is found, will you—as you say—consent to Marie becoming my wife.”
“Yes,” said Sorley tersely and decisively, “but of course part of the treasure must be given to me.”