"Yes, the gold escort, Mr. Cumshaw. What about it!"
He did not answer that immediately, but eyed both Moira and me as if to test our receptive capacities. I maintained an attitude of complete indifference; Moira leaned forward a little with interest plainly marked in every line of her face.
"You were both in Mr. Bryce's confidence?" His quiet remark took the form of a question.
I nodded.
"Go on," Moira urged. "You came to tell us about your father, Mr. Abel Cumshaw."
"That's right," said the young man with amazing alacrity. "You're all right too. I wasn't sure at first, but now I see you're in the game with me. From what I know of it we're all like pieces of a jig-saw puzzle. We all fit in, and none of us is any use without the others. That being so, I fancy that we had better all place our cards on the table. Now which of you has got the cypher?"
Moira looked at me for guidance. I was pleased to see that she was learning that she couldn't do without me. I was pleased—no, I wasn't pleased at all, for it didn't matter now what Moira thought of me.
"What cypher is that?" I enquired innocently.
"There is only one cypher, Mr. Carstairs," Mr. Cumshaw stated. He seemed so sure about it that my curiosity was aroused.
"Indeed?" I said politely. I knew better than to contradict him outright, so I did it by implication.