Mr Campion grinned from behind his enormous spectacles. ‘Oh, that,’ he said, ‘that was rather fortunate as it happened. I had a notion things might be awkward, so I was naturally anxious that the guns, or at least one of them, should fall into the hands of someone who knew something about bluff at any rate.’
‘Where did you get it from?’ demanded Abbershaw. ‘I thought only one of those men in the dining-room had a gun?’
‘Nor had they when we tackled ’em,’ agreed Mr Campion. ‘I relieved our laddie of this one earlier on in the meal, while I was performing my incredible act with the salt-cellar, in fact. It was the first opportunity I’d had, and I couldn’t resist it.’
Abbershaw stared at him.
‘By Jove,’ he said, with some admiration, ‘while you were doing your conjuring trick you picked his pocket.’
Mr Campion hesitated, and Abbershaw had the uncomfortable impression that he reddened slightly.
‘Well,’ he said at last, ‘in a way, yes, but if you don’t mind – let’s call it léger de main, shall we?’
CHAPTER XX
The Round-Up
As Abbershaw and Campion made their way slowly down the staircase to the first floor, the house seemed to be unnaturally silent. The candles in the iron sconces had not been lighted, and the corridors were quite dark save for a faint greyness here and there when the open doors of a room permitted the faint light of the stars to penetrate into the gloom.
Abbershaw touched his companion’s arm.