“It seems to me, Mr. Dangerfield, that you’re presuming a good deal on your safety in the past. Crooks nowadays aren’t likely to be frightened off by talk. No, it would take more than a Castle Spectre to keep some of our smashers out of here if they only knew what you’ve told us.”
Rollo Dangerfield’s white eyebrows contracted slightly. It was evident to them all that he was displeased at being doubted. He leaned forward and spoke directly to the American.
“Now this is authentic, Mr. Wraxall. You can look up the accounts in the local papers of the time, if you care to go to the trouble. I shall be very pleased to give you the dates, if necessary. At least twice within the last half century an attempt has been made to rob us of the Talisman. Once a drunken tramp made his way in here during the night and took the armlet. He was afraid to get rid of it anywhere near here; and three days later he was arrested for some other crime; the Talisman was found on him and returned to us. The second case was a genuine burglary. One of the keepers saw the man leave the house and gave chase. The fellow dropped dead—heart failure, it was said to be—and the Talisman was found in his hand.”
The American said nothing; but quite obviously he was not convinced. Old Dangerfield seemed to be nettled.
“I am not trying to convince you, Mr. Wraxall. I suppose that would be quite impossible. But I tell you this frankly: If the Talisman disappeared to-night, the last thing I should think of doing would be to call in the police. The Talisman guards itself. Within seven days at the outside, it would be back there under the bell.”
Eileen Cressage had been listening eagerly to the old man’s words; but at this last statement, her surprise broke out.
“You wouldn’t call in the police, Mr. Dangerfield? You’d really trust to the Talisman finding its way home? It seems amazing.”
“You may take me at my word, Miss Cressage. I mean exactly what I say in this matter. If the Talisman disappeared, either by day or by night, I should not trouble to call in police assistance. Why should I, when I know what I do know? Of course I mean what I say. Did you ever see anything like the Talisman guarded with so little care? If I did not believe implicitly that it would come back, wouldn’t I have it trenched round with all manner of protections? Of course! Let it go! What does that matter, since it is certain to be over there again before long.”
Conway Westenhanger turned from the Talisman’s niche, but as he crossed the tessellated floor his eye was caught by something which he had not noticed before. He stooped for an instant and glanced keenly at the corners of one or two squares.
“Something there that’s got plugged with dirt,” he reflected. “Holes a bit bigger than a large pin’s head, they seem to be. Nothing important, evidently, since they’re choked up in that fashion.”