“If I must, I suppose I could.”
“And you, Rees,” continued Amos, “who can do anything which needs smartness and dexterity of fingers, can use a file, or could learn to do it?”
“I could learn to do it, of course.”
“Very well, then. The Christmas holidays are now on, and people flock to the Tower in swarms. By-the-by, I suppose that you know that St. Austell’s brother, the Honorable Charles Cenarth, is keeper of the regalia?”
Rees started.
“Why on earth can’t you leave that family alone, Goodhare?”
Amos laughed harshly, and a look of diabolical malice flashed out of his eyes.
“Oh, in this case my reason will explain itself as it goes on,” said he. “In the meantime you will both, in the course of the holidays, visit the Tower more than once to familiarise yourselves with it. Go on Mondays and Saturdays, the free days, when there is a crush. Use disguise, but of the simplest and neatest sort. Rees, you will practise the filing away of iron bars without noise. And there is something else for you to do. Lord Wenlock, the general, is a great chum of St. Austell’s, isn’t he?”
“I believe so.”
“Have you ever seen any of his handwriting?”