“Stop!” said Mr Girtle. “What terms do you propose for this information?”
“Oh, sir, I wasn’t hesitating about that, but because I don’t like letting it go now I’ve found it. It was so much trouble to find the clue, I hardly like parting with it. But here you are, sir, and if I may make terms, I may say I’m only a few pounds out of pocket—ten will cover it—but I should like it if Mr Capel here would give me that Indian knife, that kukri. I’ve a fancy for saving up that sort of article.”
“Take the horrible thing and welcome,” said Capel impatiently.
“Well, gentlemen, I pieced together all that was published, with Doctor Heston’s notions, the servants’ knowledge, and my own ideas.”
“Well?”
“Well, gentlemen, it was that old Indian servant who took the treasure.”
“Impossible!”
“Not a bit. He had the keys—he knew how to use them.”
“He was as honest as the day,” cried Mr Girtle.
“Exactly, sir, that’s just it. Honesty made him take it.”