“If you are worthy enough to untie them,” grinned Mr. Wagstaffe, and held out a wet and rather muddy shoe. But there were no diamond-rings in Mr. Wagstaffe’s shoes.
“Good-bye,” said Mr. Wagstaffe amiably.
“Au revoir,” the detective grinned. He was annoyed. “You’ll see more of me, Mr. Wagstaffe. Call on you soon, perhaps.”
The young man turned round at the door.
“Going to search all the guests?” he asked.
“’Course not. But you had no right in the house. You was loitering suspiciously.”
“Going to search the other people who came unasked?” asked Mr. Wagstaffe gently.
“Don’t pull any of that on me, young man,” said the plain-clothes man. “You was the suspicious character on the premises when the diamond-ring was stolen, and you’ll hear more of it.”
The cavalier of the streets advanced gently upon the plain-clothes man, and gently he smiled upon him.
“If you knew more of your London,” said he, “you would know that there were at least five other suspicious characters in this house, of whom not more than two could have been invited. And the next time you come near me you had better bring a posse along with you for protection, for at one more word from you I will smite you in such a manner that if you don’t fall down instantly I shall have to run behind you to see what’s holding you up. Good-afternoon.”