“I’m not going to fire,” said Ingleborough, smiling contemptuously, as he held the pistol in both hands with his thumb-nails together on the top of the butt. Then, pressing the cock sidewise, the butt opened from end to end upon a concealed hinge, showing that it was perfectly hollowed out and that half-a-dozen large diamonds lay within, closely packed in cotton wool.
Anson turned clay-coloured.
“’Tisn’t mine!” he cried. “I know nothing about it!”
“Well, never mind,” said the General; “it is ours now. An interesting bit of loot, gentlemen!”
There was a murmur of voices at this, and as soon as the pistol had been handed round the butt was closed with a sharp snap, and the General turned to Ingleborough again.
“Well, sir,” he said: “is that all?”
“I am not sure,” replied Ingleborough; “but I am suspicious about that stick.”
“You think it is hollowed out?”
“Yes, sir,” said Ingleborough, and, taking it in his hands, he drew it apart, dragging into the light from its sheath a handsome Damascened three-edged blade, which he held against the cane, proving that the blade went right down to the ferrule at the end.
“What about the handle?” said one of the officers eagerly, as Ingleborough thrust back the blade into its cane sheath.