“You haven’t answered my question,” he said. “Perhaps you can’t!”
McEachern was wiping his forehead and breathing quickly.
“If you like,” said Jimmy, “we’ll go down to the drawing-room now, and you shall tell your story and I’ll tell mine. I wonder which they will think the more interesting? Damn you!” he went on, his anger rising once more, “what do you mean by it? You come into my room and bluster and talk big about exposing crooks. What do you call yourself, I wonder? Do you realise what you are? Why, poor Spike’s an angel compared with you! He did take chances. He wasn’t in a position of trust. You——”
He stopped.
“Hadn’t you better get out of here, don’t you think?” he said curtly.
Without a word McEachern walked to the door and went out.
Jimmy dropped into a chair with a deep breath. He took up his cigarette-case, but before he could light a match the gong sounded from the distance.
He rose and laughed rather shakily. He felt limp. “As an effort to conciliating papa,” he said, “I’m afraid that wasn’t much of a success.”
It was not often that Mr. McEachern was visited by ideas—he ran rather to muscle than to brain—but he had one that evening during dinner. His interview with Jimmy had left him furious, but baffled. He knew that his hands were tied. Frontal attack was useless; to drive Jimmy from the castle would be out of the question. All that could be done was to watch him while he was there, for he had never been more convinced of anything in his life than that Jimmy had wormed his way into the house-party with felonious intent. The appearance of Lady Julia at dinner wearing the famous rope of diamonds supplied an obvious motive. The necklace had an international reputation. Probably there was not a prominent thief in England or on the Continent who had not marked it down as a possible prey. It had already been tried for once. It was big game—just the sort of lure which would draw the type of criminal he imagined Jimmy to be.
From his seat at the farther end of the table he looked at the jewels as they gleamed on their wearer’s neck. They were almost too ostentatious for what was, after all, an informal dinner. It was not a rope of diamonds—it was a collar. There was something Oriental and barbaric in the overwhelming display of jewellery. It was a prize for which a thief would risk much.