“As soon as the light went out, I pulled on a thick pair of gloves and got a bit of lead pipe out of my slapstick. But there was a bit of a scuffle in the dark round the show-case, and some one must have put their elbow through the glass. I heard it go crash in the dark. I shoved along till I was opposite the medallion section of the case—luckily some one made way for me just then—and I got to work with my lead pipe. The glass smashed easily—it must have been cracked before. So I put my hand in and groped about. I could find only three medallions instead of six; but I hooked them out, slabbed on some plasticine, stuck them under the case for future reference, and cut my stick for the door. Some one was ahead of me there, and I heard some sort of mix-up in the dark. Then I wandered out into the garden by the east door, as soon as I could find it in the dark. And I’ve been out there having a smoke till now. When I came in again, I heard you’d been asking for me, so I came along.”
Sir Clinton considered for a moment.
“I want to be quite clear on one point,” he said with no relaxation of his manner. “You say that you heard the glass crack before you began your work. Are you certain of that?”
“Quite,” said Foxy.
“And when you got your hand into the case you could find only three medallions?”
“That was all. I was groping for the top row of the six; and naturally it surprised me when I felt only three altogether. I’m quite certain about it.”
“So you were evidently the second thief at the case to-night?” Sir Clinton concluded.
Foxy flushed at the word “thief” but a glance at the face of the Chief Constable evidently persuaded him that it would be best not to argue on philology at that moment. He contented himself with nodding sullenly in response to Sir Clinton’s remark.
Joan relieved the tension.
“Anyhow, we’ve got the medallions safe, and that’s all that really matters,” she pointed out. “Let’s have a look at them, Cecil.”