“I hear you, Freddie,” interjected Douglas, and Freddie was annoyed to see Nina Lindale’s lips twitch in a repressed smile.
“It’s no laughing matter,” he said, indignantly. “Far from it. Somebody in Friocksheim took the Talisman, that’s certain. Now all I suggest is that we should each voluntarily account for our time during the period when the thing was stolen. That’s no hardship to anyone. I’m quite glad to do it myself; and I’m sure everyone else in my position will be just as glad. If anyone here took the Talisman, let him say so now and we won’t need to go any further.”
He fixed his eye on Douglas Fairmile as he spoke, more by accident than design.
“Meaning me?” inquired Douglas. “Try again, doggie. You’re barking up the wrong tree. I never touched the thing in my life.”
Freddie ignored the interruption.
“Nobody admits they did it as a joke?” he demanded. “Then it’s much worse. It’s theft, pure and simple. We owe it to ourselves to clear the thing up. At any rate, that’s my view, and I think it will be the view of everybody in my position to-night.”
To Freddie’s surprise Morchard came to his assistance.
“There’s something in that,” he admitted. “I doubt if it’ll lead to anything; but since the thing’s been allowed to go so far, I don’t see any harm in letting anyone who wishes it, do as you suggest.”
Freddie, looking at Eileen Cressage, saw her shoot a glance at Morchard; but as she turned her head to do so, he could not see her expression. When she turned back again he had no difficulty in reading consternation in her face. She detected that he was watching her and endeavoured, with very little success, to assume an indifferent attitude. Westenhanger also had caught the by-play, and his face clouded.
“Suppose you begin, then,” Freddie suggested to Morchard.