The next minute they were in Anson’s combined bed and sitting room, a very ordinary-looking place, with the simplest of furniture and plenty of suggestions all round of spots where an ingenious man might have hidden a little fortune in diamonds; for the mud walls were lined with matchboard, the ceiling was of the same material, and then there was the floor, where in any part a board could have been lifted and a receptacle made for the precious crystals, without counting the articles of furniture, including the bedding.
“I’m sorry I have no more chairs, gentlemen,” said the tenant banteringly. “Sit on the table, and three of you can make a sofa of the bed. Never mind tumbling it! You’ll do nothing compared to Mr Superintendent Norton when he begins. I say, though, you should have given me notice of all this, and then I’d have had a carpenter here to skin the walls and ceiling so as to have made everything nice and easy for you. I say, Mr Norton, you’ll want a pickaxe and shovel directly, won’t you?”
The directors had paid no heed to the speaker’s bantering remarks, but the superintendent was getting hot, tired, and annoyed by the constant chatter of the man he was longing to arrest; and, though he had treated everything so far with calm indifference, his lack of success in his search for something incriminating in such places as experience had taught him were in favour with those who carried on diamond-smuggling began now to tell upon his temper, and he turned sharply upon the speaker: to snap out words which showed that his thoughts ran on all-fours with those of Ingleborough.
“Look here, young man!” he said; “I don’t know whether you are aware of it, but you are hard at work building up a black case against yourself, and if you’re not careful you’ll find yourself before long working out your two years as a convict on the Cape Town breakwater.”
“I shall!” cried Anson. “What for? Where’s your evidence? You’ve got a jumped-up cock-and-bull story made by a fellow-clerk who says one thing while I say another. You’ve only his word for it. You’ve found no diamonds on me, and you’ve found none in my lodgings.”
“Not yet,” said the superintendent meaningly.
“Oh, I see! Not yet! Go on, then, pray! I’m not paid by time, so I can afford to lose a few hours. Search away! Perhaps our clever friend Ingleborough can tell you where to look. Perhaps he wouldn’t like to, though. It would hurt his feelings to accuse a brother-clerk of being an illicit trader. But don’t mind me, Ingle. It’s good sport for you. Why don’t you help, and think you’re a good little boy playing at ‘hot boiled beans and very good butter’ again? Now then, Norton’s going across to the other side. You should call out ‘colder’ when he’s going away from the place, and ‘warmer’ when he gets nearer. Then ‘hot,’ and last of all ‘burning.’ Come, keep up the game!”
“I should just like to ram that pair of clean socks between your teeth, my fine fellow, and keep it there with a leather strap,” muttered the officer; and, as if about to put his wish into practice, he stooped and picked up the closely rolled-up pair of socks lying with some other articles of attire placed freshly washed upon a shelf by Anson’s landlady.
“Now then,” cried Anson boisterously, “cry ‘burning,’ somebody: there must be some diamonds inside that!”
The directors frowned, and Ingleborough and West looked on angrily as the officer dashed the soft woollen ball back upon the heap and then went on with his search for nearly an hour.