“Outside—in the passage—”
They stepped out; and Frankl, his eyelids red, said: “I have only this day crawled from bed with the blow you struck my temple, or I should have had you before this—”
“Sh-h-h. Your own fault, sir. You played false first—”
“Played false with my own diamonds? You hand me over this day one-half those stones, or I bring a civil action for the whole, hound you to beggary, and drag you back to your convict-cell where you come from”.
“Don't lift your voice, I beg of you. Tut, you rave. You can't bring a civil action against a great millionaire who doesn't care to defend; and as for me, I do assure you, I haven't fifty pounds to-day. It is Hogarth who is Mr. Beech!”
“Who?”—Frankl obtruded a startled ear, frowning his eyes small.
“Hogarth. He has the diamonds back!”
“Which diamonds? How did he get 'em?”
“He is—in—there: better go and ask him! He got them by black art—by the aid of the legion of mediaeval witches which wait on him—God knows how he got them! You gave them to him! I gave them to him! but he's got them—in—there! Better go and ask him—don't be afraid—just for the roaring fun of it—”
“Hogarth?”