“But all the real medallions are gone!” said Cecil in disgust. “And whoever’s got them must know they’re gone.”
“There’s nothing like a good authoritative lie for shaking confidence,” Sir Clinton observed, mildly. “That’s your share in the business. You’d better mention it at breakfast time to as many people as you can; and you can telephone the glad news to me, with the door of the telephone box open so that any one can hear it. Yell as loud as you please, or louder if possible. It won’t hurt me at the other end. In any case, see that the happy tidings wash the most distant shores.”
“Well, since you say so, I’ll do it. But it’s sure to be found out, you know, sooner or later.”
“All I want is a single day’s run of it. My impression is that, if things go well, I’ll have the whole Ravensthorpe affair cleared up by this time to-morrow. But I don’t promise that as a certainty.”
“And this yarn is part of your scheme?”
“I’m setting a trap,” Sir Clinton assured them. “And that lie is the bait I’m offering.”
As they reached the car, he added:
“See that your constable doesn’t say a word about this affair to-night—to any one. That’s important, Inspector.”
CHAPTER XIV.
The Second Chase in the Woods
“I’ve made all the necessary arrangements, sir,” Inspector Armadale reported to the Chief Constable on the following evening. “A dozen constables—two with rubber-soled shoes—and a couple of sergeants. They’re to be at the Ravensthorpe gate immediately it’s dark enough. The sergeants have the instructions; the constables don’t even know where they’re going when they leave here.”