"Where? Where?" cried the Jew eagerly.
"You don't expect me to tell you straight away, do you?" asked Jessel in an injured tone.
The Jew took no notice. "And the other boxes and the pictures—can you tell me where my Greuze is?"
"No, I can't, at least not at present," said the valet coolly, "but I reckon that if once I put you on the track of one of the things that has been stolen it won't be my fault if you don't find out where the rest of 'em are."
"Well, well," said Flurscheim, impatiently, "tell me where the miniature is?"
There was silence and the detective listened impatiently.
"Have you lost your tongue?" demanded Flurscheim angrily.
"What about the reward you offered?" said Jessel. "Five thousand pounds, wasn't it, for such information as shall lead to the conviction of the thieves or the recovery of the stolen property?"
"You shall have the reward, all right," said Flurscheim impatiently.
"I'm not misdoubting your word," said Jessel, "but in cases like this it's better to 'ave everything in black and white. 'Ave it in black and white, that's my motto."