"I have this," said Fitz.
In the most natural manner he flung open his overcoat, pulled away his evening tie, tore open his collar, and produced from under the rumpled shirt front a locket suspended by a fine gold chain round his neck. It contained a miniature of the Princess, executed in Paris. Both Coverdale and I examined it curiously, but as we did so I fear our minds had a single thought. It was that Fitz was a little mad.
"Will you entrust it to me?" said Coverdale.
Fitz's indecision was pathetic.
"It's the only one I've got," he mumbled. "I don't suppose I shall ever be able to get another. I ought to have had a replica while I had the chance."
"I undertake to return it within three days," said Coverdale, with a simple kindliness for which I honoured him.
Fitz handed the locket to him impulsively,
"Of course take it, by all means," he said, hurriedly. "I know you will take care of it. Fact is, you know, I'm a bit knocked over."
"Naturally, my dear fellow," said Coverdale. "So should we all be. But I shall go up to town this afternoon and have a talk with them at Scotland Yard.
"I was afraid that would have to happen. I wanted it to be kept an absolute secret, you know."