"Good lord, Caw! What are you driving at? My uncle trusted him, and his letter—"
"If you'll excuse me, sir, you have just been telling me that Mr. Harvie knows next to nothing. Mr. Harvie, I beg to say, is a very nice gentleman, and as honest as any lawyer need hope for to be; but a lawyer is the last sort of human being we want to have in this business, sir."
"I'm afraid I don't quite grasp—" began Alan, amused by the other's earnestness.
"Well, sir, did you ever go to a lawyer to ask a question?"
"I can't say I have, that I remember."
"Then, sir, I have. I once asked a lawyer one question, and before he could, or would, answer it, sir, he asked me fifty, and then his answer was rot—beg pardon, sir—unsatisfactory. But what I mean is just this, sir. With all due deference to Mr. Harvie, we don't want outsiders asking questions. My master himself would have been against it, and I'm hoping you will understand why before very long, sir."
Alan sat up. "Before we go any further," he said, "will you tell me what you were looking for last night when you opened a drawer in that writing-table and—well, go ahead."
Caw took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow. "A green box, sir, that had been there a few hours earlier."
"The contents?"
"Diamonds, sir."