The emerald of Catherine the Great

by Hilaire Belloc

"He hasn't got it," said Vic decidedly. "And he's not so putrid, either. Nothin' like as putrid as you are!"

"That's neither here nor there. He's putrid, all right. Shall I tell you who's got it?"

"You don't know," said Vic. "Lie away."

"Old Footle's got it," said Tommy, with decision. "Cousin Bill. It may be sewn into his sagging skin: but he's got it."

Victoria Mosel looked at him curiously through her half-closed buttonhole eyes.

"Go on!" she said.

"I saw him take it," said Galton. "I saw him with my own eyes."

"And you told the chief, I suppose?" said Vic, with a sneer.

"Yes, I told him," answered Tommy determinedly.

"More fool you!" said Vic, sighing. "He hasn't. Old Bill hasn't got it, Tommy.... I've been watching you all since Collop came under this accursed roof. The Don's not oppressed. It's not with him. He hasn't got it."