“Yes. There is some good intelligence work in this business. But not at Scotland Yard.”
“He is very harsh with us, Bell. I fear he has had a bad day. The marbles ran badly for him. My dear Fortune, I always told you there was nothing in it.”
“You did,” said Reggie grimly. “I’ll forgive you, but I won’t promise to forget. Do you know Lord Tetherdown?”
“The little rag bag who collects rags and bones? He has been a joke this ten years.”
“Lord Tetherdown is a very wealthy man,” said Superintendent Bell with respect.
“Yes. He’s gone. Now Lomas, stemming your cheery wit, apply your mind to this. Yesterday morning a rare specimen was stolen from the British Museum. Yesterday evening Lord Tetherdown, who collects such things, who hasn’t got that particular thing and would pay through the nose to get it, was called on by a man about a curio. Lord Tetherdown went out and vanished.”
“My dear fellow!” Lomas put up his eyeglass. “I admire your imagination. But what is it you want me to believe? That Tetherdown arranged for this accursed stone to be stolen?”
“I doubt that,” said Reggie thoughtfully.
“So do I. He’s a meek shy little man. Well then, did the thief try to sell it to Tetherdown? Why should that make Tetherdown run away?”
“It might decoy him away.”