Mr. Collop beamed with satisfaction.
"That, sir," he said triumphantly, "is the end of what we've called our Negative process. Hey! Number One!" And he ticked off on his thumb, as he had done before.
"We are now assured," he boomed, tucking his thumbs into the armholes of his waistcoat, "that wherever the Em'rald may be, it's not in this room. Stay a moment! I'd forgotten! The pictures down, please!"
Again the owner gave tongue. "Do you really think, Mr. Collop ..."
"Yes, I do," answered Mr. Collop with decision. "Come. Smartly, lads!"
No harm was done to the pictures; they knew their work. The Cox was lifted down and now leaned at a secure angle. The Morland turned its back canvas to the ceiling, pushed on a capsized armchair. I wish I could say as much for the Napoleonic looking-glass.
It was just too high for one of the men's hands; he slipped, and down it came: an omen of ill-fortune, smashed upon the floor—round gilded frame, Eagle of the Legions, and all.
"Well, well!" said Mr. Collop cheerfully. "No battle without losses, ye know—hey?"
"I really think...." urged the Home Secretary, with something as near anger as his temperament allowed.
"Never you fuss, sir," thrust in Mr. Collop genially. "It's all right now. We've proved our point. That's the 'sential. I say again, the Negative part is accomplished," and he smiled upon his chief with all the satisfaction of genius. "The em'rald's not in this room where it was lost. That's a cert. What's the conclusion? Why, sir, the conclusion is that it's somewhere else. And when I say somewhere else, what do I mean?"