“Who’s got the medallions? You, Joan? I’ll take them.”
When she had handed them over, he scrutinized them carefully.
“These seem to be the Leonardo ones,” he confirmed.
Sir Clinton interposed a question.
“Were the medallions and the replicas in their usual places to-night, Maurice? I mean, were the real things in the top row and the electros down below?”
Maurice gave a curt nod of assent. He weighed the three medallions unconsciously in his hand for a moment, then moved over to the safe in the wall of the museum.
“These things will be safer under lock and key, now,” he said.
He opened the safe, inserted the medallions, closed the safe-door with a clang, and busied himself with the combination of the lock.
Before saying anything further, Sir Clinton waited until Maurice had returned to the group.
“There’s one thing,” he said. “I shall have to look into this affair officially now. It’s essential that things shall be left as they are. Especially the place where that fellow gave you the slip, Clifton. Nobody must be wandering about there, up at the spinney, until I’ve done with the ground. There may be clues left, for all one can tell; and we can’t run the risk of their being destroyed.”