I secretly admired the adroit way in which Thorndyke had evaded the rather pointed question without making any actual mis-statement. But the motive for the evasion was not very obvious to me. I was about to put a question on the subject, but he anticipated it, for, as soon as we were outside, he remarked with a chuckle: “It is just as well that we didn’t begin by exhibiting the casts. We could hardly have sworn our friend to secrecy, seeing that the original is undoubtedly stolen property.”
“But aren’t you going to draw the attention of the police to the fact?”
“I think not,” he replied. “They have got the original, and no doubt they have a list of the stolen property. We must assume that they will make use of their knowledge; but if they don’t, it may be all the better for us. The police are very discreet; but they do sometimes give the Press more information than I should. And what is told to the Press is told to the criminal.”
“And why not?” I asked. “What is the harm of his knowing?”
“My dear Gray!” exclaimed Thorndyke. “You surprise me. Just consider the position. This man aimed at being entirely unsuspected. That failed. But still his identity is unknown, and he is probably confident that it will never be ascertained. Then he is, so far, off his guard. There is no need for him to disappear or go into hiding. But let him know that he is being tracked and he will almost certainly take fresh precautions against discovery. Probably he will slip away beyond our reach. Our aim must be to encourage in him a feeling of perfect security; and that aim commits us to the strictest secrecy. No one must know what cards we hold or that we hold any; or even that we are taking a hand.”
“What about Miss D’Arblay?” I asked anxiously. “May I not tell her that you are working on her behalf?”
He looked at me somewhat dubiously. “It would obviously be better not to,” he said, “but that might seem a little unfriendly and unsympathetic.”
“It would be an immense relief to her to know that you are trying to help her, and I think you could trust her to keep your secrets.”
“Very well,” he conceded. “But warn her very thoroughly. Remember that our antagonist is hidden from us. Let us remain hidden from him, so far as our activities are concerned.”
“I will make her promise absolute secrecy,” I agreed: and then, with a slight sense of anti-climax, I added: “But we don’t seem to have so very much to conceal. This curious story of the stolen coin is interesting, but it doesn’t appear to get us any more forward.”