Alan stared at his friend. "Why do you say if I want him? Don't you imagine I want him?"—he cried—"not for anything he may have done or tried to do to me, but for what might have happened had Mar—Miss Handyside opened that infernal Green Box—"
"The telegram may have been a hoax. The box may or may not contain an infernal contrivance, but even if it does, you can't convict Bullard any more than you can arrest the soul of the man who is dead."
"I don't understand you," said Alan. "Tell me why you used those words, 'if I want him,' meaning Bullard."
"Simply because," answered Teddy, "I'm pretty sure you don't want him.
Think a moment!"
The other sprang to his feet. "Come along, Teddy! There's no thought required. That nugget has got to be handed to the police before we're an hour older."
Teddy rose slowly and slipped the nugget into his pocket. "Alan, my son," he said gently, "that nugget does not leave my possession—no, not for all your uncle's genuine diamonds. Think again!"
"Oh, rot! If you're afraid of the police, Teddy—"
"Perhaps I am—"
"Well, give the thing to me, and I'll—"
"One moment." Teddy's face went ruddy. "I'd like you to answer a question, though it may strike you as abominably impertinent. Are you—are you as fond as ever of Doris Lancaster?"