“I’ll tell you, then. We’ve nothing to conceal. I came in here at about twenty to twelve and sauntered about the room, pretending to look at the cases as if I’d never seen them before. My part was to mark down Mold and prevent him interfering.”
Sir Clinton nodded to show that he knew all this.
“Rather before I expected it, the light went out. Oh, there was a shot fired just then. I didn’t understand that part of it, but I supposed that Foxy had brought a pistol with him and fired a blank cartridge just to add a touch of interest to the affair. It wasn’t on the bill of fare, so I imagine it must have been one of these last-minute improvements. Anyhow, I did my part of the business: jumped on Mold and held him while Foxy got away with the stuff. Then, when he’d had time to get away, I let Mold go and made a bee-line for the door myself. I could swear no one spotted me in the dark, and I was well mixed up in the mob before the lights went on again.”
“Did you pay particular attention to what Polegate was doing while you were busy with the keeper?”
“No. Mold gave me all I wanted in the way of trouble.”
“You’re sure it was Mold you got hold of? You didn’t make any mistake?”
Cecil reflected for a moment.
“I don’t see how I could have gripped the wrong man. I’d marked him down while the light was on.”
“Can you remember anything about sounds of breaking glass?”
Cecil pondered before replying.