"Pretty toy, isn't it?" he commented. "I gave Streeters carte blanche to do the best they could."
He dropped the necklace carelessly back in its case, snapped the catch, and placed it in his pocket. Fairfield's jerk of the head was significant.
"And you are fool enough to carry the thing around loose in your pocket. Good heavens, man! Do you know that there are people who would not stick at murder to get a thing like that?"
The other laughed easily. "Don't you worry, Fairfield. You're the only person I've shown it to, and I'm not afraid you'll sandbag me." He changed the subject abruptly. "By the way, I've got an engagement I want to keep. Do you mind answering the telephone if I'm rung up by any one? Say I'm here, but I'm frightfully busy clearing up some business matters, will you?"
The baronet frowned half in perplexity, half in pro
test. "Why—forgive me, Bob—why not say that you are gone out to keep an appointment?"
Grell was plainly a little embarrassed, but he strove to disguise the fact. "Oh, it's only a fancy of mine," he retorted lightly. "I shan't be gone long. You'll do it, won't you?"
"Of course," agreed Sir Ralph, still frowning.
"That's all right, then. Thanks. I'll be back in half an hour."
He strode away with an abrupt nod. Shortly afterwards Fairfield heard a taxicab scurry away down the sodden street. He leaned back in his chair and puffed a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling. There was a dim uneasiness in his mind, though he could have given no reason for it. He picked up an evening paper and threw it aside. Then he strolled up into the cardroom and tried to interest himself in watching a game of bridge. But the play only bored him. Time hung heavily on his hands. A servant spoke to him. Instantly he rose and made his way to the telephone. A call had been made for Grell.