“You’d better ask him. I met him just now standing shivering and hesitating at the outer door of our room.”
“But he never went then! He can’t have been to Amsterdam and back since yesterday!”
“I should say not.”
“Then what has the fool done with the jewels?” asked Amos, whose tones grew more furious every moment.
Already he had drawn the bolt of the door.
“From what I could make out, some woman’s got them. But the poor wretch was in such an abject state of funk that I couldn’t get much that was intelligible out of him.”
Goodhare stammered out an oath. He seemed to be choking with rage as he burst opened the door with a rough hand.
“A woman!” he growled out. “I’ll tear the heart out of her.”
“If you can get hold of her,” says Rees drily. “But as I thought you’d make things unpleasant for the poor chap, I pushed him out of the front door and told him to put a couple of miles between you and him as fast as possible.”
Goodhare turned, very slowly. The shock of this intelligence, imparted thus coolly, seemed for the moment to overwhelm him. Then, with a howl of rage, he sprang at Rees, who nimbly avoided him.