Toroni did not look up nor did he touch his glass. Dixon fumbled with his hands in his great coat pockets, from which he produced two objects which he placed on the table; they were the two wooden dolls.
Tom recognized the one which had been in the possession of Victor Dreyel; the other had, undoubtedly, belonged to Christian Dreyel. The small figures glowed blood-red in the light of the setting sun. Tom gazed at them with a shudder, even the doctor seemed uncomfortable.
"Throw them overboard," he said abruptly; "they are no longer wanted."
"Throw them overboard?" retorted Dixon, reproachfully. "Our constant guardians, with whom Toroni had no end of trouble before he sent them to my place.... Never. I want to have them constantly before my eyes until the gold has seen the light of day, and then I shall return them to Robertson as a little souvenir."
Overheated with whisky and joyful anticipation, he unbuttoned his coat, took it off and threw it down upon a chair. "Poor old Robertson!" he soliloquized as he mixed himself another drink. "Things weren't very comfortable for him when he was your patient, you old compounder of poisons, you!"
Doctor Corman's face assumed an ashen hue, the eyes under his pince-nez flashed; but he restrained himself, and a painful silence ensued. It dawned upon Dixon that he had said too much, and he looked persistently at his cigar. At last Toroni lifted his tawny eyelids and said: "Talking of Robertson ... what do you intend to do with his daughter?"
That was a matter which had long occupied Tom's thoughts and now sent a shiver down his spine. Dixon became suddenly sober, and the doctor cast down his eyes without saying a word or moving a muscle. The silence seemed unending. At last Dixon said, impatiently, "Bah, Elaine? We brought her with us for otherwise she might have been a witness, but I..."
There was a rustling of silk on the stairs, and Madame Lorraine hurried up. She looked at the three men with undisguised loathing.
"Are you aware that the skylight above the saloon is open?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" inquired Corman, with some asperity. Each of them cast a quick glance at the skylight, which was indeed half-open.