“Happily—or perhaps I should say, in the light of future events, unhappily,” continued Sir Richard, “I recalled that Beverley Brandon—he was Saar’s younger son, I should mention—was staying in this neighbourhood. I repaired instantly to this inn, therefore, and, being fortunate enough to meet Brandon just beyond the village, gave the necklace to him without further ado.”
The magistrate set down his glass. “You gave the necklace to him? Did he know that it had been stolen?”
“By no means. He was as astonished as I was, but engaged himself to restore it immediately to his father. I considered the matter satisfactorily settled—Saar, you know, having the greatest dislike of any kind of notoriety, such as must accrue from the theft, and the subsequent proceedings.”
“Sir!” said Mr Philips, “do you mean to imply that this unfortunate young man was murdered for the sake of the necklace?”
“That,” said Sir Richard, “is what I fear may have happened.”
“But this is shocking! Upon my word, sir, I am quite dumbfounded!—what—who can have known that the necklace was in his possession?”
“I should have said that no one could have known it, but, upon consideration, I imagine that the individual who hid it in my pocket may well have followed me to this place, waiting for an opportunity to get it back into his possession.”
“True! very true! You have been spied upon! Yet you have not seen that man in Queen Charlton?”
“Do you think he would—er—let me see him?” enquired Sir Richard, evading this question.
“No. No, indeed! Certainly not! But this must be looked to!”