"Who knows whether that also did not leak out? I believe it did," Robertson answered languidly. "I had sent off the dolls before I came here. They probably decoyed me here so that they might find out their whereabouts. I am inclined to think so...."
Wallion nodded: "There's not the least doubt of that; Toroni and his accomplices went about their work thoroughly. Do you think your daughter has the least inkling of the plight you are in?"
"No, but I believe she begins to think the Doctor's diagnosis of my case is wrong," replied Robertson in an unusually natural and deliberate voice. "She told me last night that I am going to be taken away from here, and that everything would be made clear...."
"Oh, there she is right enough," said Wallion, "but a lot of things have to be done before then. You must place full confidence in me, Mr. Robertson, and tell me all," he bent forward. "Tell me what is the mystery about King Solomon?"
William Robertson raised his hand to his forehead as if to disperse the mist of years; it shook and the fire in his eyes died down once more.
"Oh, of course, I will tell you," he said half absently, "the time has come that I should tell you, perhaps, though you had better read it..." he roused himself. "I've written it all down—the account of King Solomon, you shall read it...."
All at once he looked with more intelligence at Wallion.
"I wrote it all down when I was in that room on the other side of the corridor. It is the first door on the left; there you'll find the document as well as a list of the twelve."
"What twelve?" broke in Wallion excitedly.
"Well, the list of the twelve who were the rightful owners."