“That’s probably it,” Westenhanger agreed. “But if he were sitting up how did the thief get into the Corinthian’s Room undetected?”
“Oh, I expect Helga only walks about once in the night; and once they’ve seen her safe back to her room they can go to bed themselves. After that, the coast would be clear. You remember I saw the Talisman in its place about one in the morning?”
Westenhanger went to bed that night with the consciousness that he had accomplished absolutely nothing during the day. He had trusted to luck, but luck had not served. His hopes were gradually lessening as time went on.
“Something may turn up,” he reflected, without optimism, as he undressed.
Something did “turn up”; but it was the last thing that he could have foreseen. On coming down to breakfast next morning he found Freddie Stickney busily spreading the news to Nina, Cynthia and Douglas.
“Heard the latest?” Freddie demanded as Westenhanger entered the room. “The Talisman’s turned up again—safe in its cabinet once more, just as old Dangerfield prophesied.”
“Who told you that?”
Westenhanger was completely taken aback by the news.
“Oh, it’s all right,” Freddie assured him. “You don’t catch me swallowing things on mere hearsay. I’ve been along to the Corinthian’s Room myself and had a look. And there it is, as large as life. Stuck under the glass bell, just as it used to be.”
Westenhanger took his seat at the table without comment. This latest episode in the chain of events seemed beyond understanding. Given that a thief had taken the Talisman, why had the thing come back at all? All that the thief had to do was to leave it in its original place of concealment, if he feared detection. To put it back in the cabinet was to run a second risk of being discovered, especially now that one of the Dangerfields was on guard over Helga each night. And if it was not a case of theft, why remove the thing at all? Before he could continue his line of thought he was interrupted.