Sir Clinton seemed satisfied.
“Of course we’ll have to check the stuff by the catalogue to make sure,” he said, “but I expect you’re right. The medallions alone would be quite a good enough haul for a minute or two’s work; and probably they had their eyes on the things as the best paying proposition of the lot.”
“But why did they take the electros as well?” Joan demanded.
Then a possible explanation occurred to her.
“Oh, of course, they wouldn’t know which was which, so they took the lot in order to make sure.”
“Possibly,” Sir Clinton admitted. “But don’t let’s be going too fast, Joan. We’d better not get ideas into our minds till we’ve got all the evidence, you know.”
“Oh, I see,” said Joan, with a faint return of her normal spirits, “I’m to be Watson, am I? And you’ll prove in a minute or two what an ass I’ve made of myself. Is that the idea?”
“Not altogether,” Sir Clinton returned, with a smile. “But let’s have the facts before the theories.”
He turned to the keeper.
“Now we’ll take your story, Mold; but give us the things in the exact order in which they happened, if you can. And don’t be worried if I break in with questions.”