Myerst hesitated.
“Well—er—I don’t think I said anything,” he replied. “Nothing that one might call material, you know.”
“Didn’t ask him what he meant?” suggested Spargo.
“Oh, no—not at all,” replied Myerst.
Spargo got up abruptly from his chair.
“Then you missed one of the finest opportunities I ever heard of!” he said, half-sneeringly. “You might have heard such a story—”
He paused, as if it were not worth while to continue, and turned to Rathbury, who was regarding him with amusement.
“Look here, Rathbury,” he said. “Is it possible to get that box opened?”
“It’ll have to be opened,” answered Rathbury, rising. “It’s got to be opened. It probably contains the clue we want. I’m going to ask Mr. Myerst here to go with me just now to take the first steps about having it opened. I shall have to get an order. We may get the matter through today, but at any rate we’ll have it done tomorrow morning.”
“Can you arrange for me to be present when that comes off?” asked Spargo. “You can—certain? That’s all right, Rathbury. Now I’m off, and you’ll ring me up or come round if you hear anything, and I’ll do the same by you.”