Believe me or not, but there was positively a flush upon the yellow cheek of the hoary intriguer, a flush that contrasted charmingly with his straggling white whiskers, as he parted with two half crowns and a note. It was a severe struggle. To comfort himself he pressed the stud again. Yes, it worked all right. He toddled back, and got in at the very moment when his cousin's car was buzzing up the drive, back from London.
Professor de Bohun was determined to lose no time. He got rid of his overcoat and his hat with surprising agility, and met the master of the house at the door as though he had been in for hours.
But his was not a temperament to introduce a subject with finesse. He went blindly at it.
"Humphrey," he said, ere ever the Home Secretary was across the step, "I want to see you. I want to see you now ... yes, now ... rather urgently.... I want to see you now."
The Man of Little Peace nodded wearily.
"Come along," he said.
His mind jumped back to the false scent of the morning. He suddenly wondered whether, after all, Cousin Bill was going to confess? Galton's statement had been clear enough. He had said in so many words that he had seen an emerald in the Professor's hand. And the head of the family would have believed anything, almost of the Professor in the way of such follies since the great Mullingar affair.
"What is it, Bill?" he said, as he shut the door of his study.
"Ah!" said the Ancient, almost archly. "What do you think? The E-M-E-R-A-L-D! Eh? Eh?"
He searched in his pocket. Humphrey de Bohun looked to see the jewel appear. Not at all. What appeared was a little round brass box, glass cased, and in it a trembling needle, that shook and shivered like a gossamer in a breeze.