"Certainly it is. The thing has been done over and over again. In a great many instances the lady does not go through the ordeal herself, but sends a maid or some confidential servant with a note addressed to the pawnbroker, and asks for ten thousand pounds, or whatever it may be. That is how this business has been worked."
"But the pawnbrokers?" Jack protested. "When they come to see a list of the missing jewels a full story must be told."
Bates admitted the ingenuity of the suggestion. It was just possible that there was danger in that direction. Still, as he pointed out, no one could blame the pawnbrokers for not recognizing from a bald printed description certain gems pledged at their establishments.
"But I think you can leave that safely to me," he said. "There is nothing to prevent me from applying for a warrant for the arrest of Carrington, and producing all that damning evidence from his private safe; but by doing this we are practically allowing a greater ruffian to escape."
Jack cordially agreed with this view of the case. He proceeded to speak at some length as to what he had seen and heard the night before last in Carrington's smoking-room.
"You must not forget," he said, "that the man who was with me on that occasion is in possession of the duplicate plans of the bank cellars."
"Oh, no," Bates cried. "I have not overlooked those plans; in fact, I particularly wish to have a glance at them. And, by the way, sir, you appear to be very reticent over the name of the companion who was with you on that important occasion."
"We will merely call him Seymour," Jack said, cautiously.
Bates smiled in a queer, significant kind of way.
"I will be more candid with you than you are with me," he said, "though you have told me more than you intended. Now, tell me if my suspicions are correct--is not this 'Seymour' and our missing Nostalgo one and the same person? It is a mere deduction on my part, but----"