“Well, then, what will you say if I tell you that those ornaments you sold me have been identified as Lady Teigne’s jewels?”
Fisherman Dick’s jaw dropped, and curious patches and blotches of white appeared in his sun-browned face.
“Oh, Dick! Dick!” cried his wife, “why don’t you tell the truth? No, don’t: it may get you into trouble.”
“I ain’t going to speak,” growled Dick. “’Tain’t likely.”
“Hush, Barclay,” whispered Linnell, taking off his hat as Claire Denville came up hurriedly, leaning on her brother’s arm.
She caught Barclay’s hand quickly, and said in a hurried whisper:
“You are inquiring about that, Mr Barclay? Have you found out anything?”
“No; the fellow will not speak,” said Barclay pettishly.
“Then stop—pray stop!” said Claire. “Don’t ask—don’t ask him any more.”
“My dear Claire, this is madness,” cried Morton excitedly. “We must know the truth.”