"Burgoyne," he stammered, "what's the meaning of this?"
"Are you quite sure you don't know what it means?"
Looking up, Mr. Staunton caught the other's eyes. He seemed to read something there which carried dreadful significance to his brain. His glance fell and he covered his face with his hands. At last he found his voice.
"Minnie?"
The word was gasped rather than spoken. Mr. Burgoyne's reply was equally brief.
"Minnie!"
"Good God!"
There was silence for perhaps a minute. Then Mr. Burgoyne locked the door of the room and stood before the empty fire-place.
"It is by the merest chance that I am not at this moment booked for the travaux forces. Some of those jewels were stolen from a woman's dressing case at the Grand Hotel, with the woman herself in bed and more than half awake at the time. She talked about having every guest in the place searched by the police. If she had done so, you would have heard from us as soon as the rules of the prison allowed us to communicate."
Mr. Burgoyne paused. Mr. Staunton kept his eyes fixed upon the table.