The Inspector signifying that it was quite the same to him, Stephen returned to the dining-room, where the rest of the party was still seated at the table. Every face turned towards him as he entered, some asking a mute, anxious question, some avidly curious. He sat down in his place, and told Sturry, who had found an excuse to come back into the room, to bring him some fresh coffee.
"Gosh, I quite thought you'd be under arrest by now!" said Valerie, putting into words what everyone else had been thinking.
"I know you did, my pretty one," Stephen answered.
"What happened, Stephen?" Mathilda asked him, in a low voice.
He favoured her with one of his twisted smiles, and took out his cigarette-case, and opened it, and selected a cigarette. As he tapped it on the case, every eye became riveted on it. Mathilda looked quickly up at him, but saw that he was not paying any heed to her, but rather letting his challenging gaze wander round the table, dwelling for a moment on Roydon's face, travelling on to Mottisfont's, and resting there for a moment.
Again it was Valerie who found her voice first. "Why, that's your cigarette-case! The one the police took!"
"As you say."
"Do you mean they've given it back to you?" asked Roydon, in bewildered accents.
"Yes," said Stephen. "They've given it back to me."
"I never heard of such a thing!" exclaimed Mottisfont. "It can't be the same case! You're trying to pull our legs, for some reason best known to yourself! The police would never have relinquished the real case!"