“That is what I suspect!” said Ingleborough, and he carefully examined the silver-gilt tip, but twisted and turned it in vain, for there seemed to be no way of opening it, till all at once he tried to twist the sheath portion beneath the double ring which divided hilt from sheath, when the handle turned for about half-an-inch and was then drawn off, disclosing a hollow shell lining which held another deposit of diamonds packed in cotton wool.
“More loot, gentlemen!” said the General, smiling. “What comes next?”
“The flute,” cried two voices together, and Ingleborough opened the case, showing the three joints fitting tightly in the velvet-lined compartments.
“A silent musical instrument!” said the General, smiling.
“Can anyone play the overture to the Crown Diamonds?” said one of the aides-de-camp merrily.
“This is the overture!” said another, and Ingleborough took out two joints in turn, perfectly empty, fitted them together, and then took out the top joint, to put that in its proper position, before raising the instrument to his lips and running up and down the gamut.
“Nothing there,” said the General.
But Ingleborough lowered the flute, held it in both hands, and drew it apart at the tuning-slide, held it sidewise, and then unscrewed the top plug, showing an opening, out of which he shook a magnificent gem of great size and perfect make.
“Bravo!” cried the General excitedly. And then: “I’m afraid, Mr Dealer in mealies and corn, the judgment will go dead against you. Have you done?” he continued, turning to Ingleborough.
“Not quite, sir!” replied the latter. “Come, West, don’t let me get all the credit for unmasking the scoundrel.”