‘Its discovery seemed to have quite a singular effect on Mr Lessingham. Now, why was that?’
‘I know nothing.’
‘Oh yes you do,—and, before you go, I mean to know something too.’
The man was trembling, looking this way and that, showing signs of marked discomfiture. That there was something about that ancient scarab, which figures so largely in the still unravelled tangles of the Egyptian mythologies, and the effect which the mere sight of its cartouch—for the drawing had resembled something of the kind—had had on such a seasoned vessel as Paul Lessingham, which might be well worth my finding out, I felt convinced,—the man’s demeanour, on my recurring to the matter, told its own plain tale. I made up my mind, if possible, to probe the business to the bottom, then and there.
‘Listen to me, my friend. I am a plain man, and I use plain speech,—it’s a kind of hobby I have. You will give me the information I require, and that at once, or I will pit my magic against yours,—in which case I think it extremely probable that you will come off worst from the encounter.’
I reached out for the lever, and the exhibition of electricity recommenced. Immediately his tremors were redoubled.
‘My lord, I know not of what you talk.’
‘None of your lies for me.—Tell me why, at the sight of the thing on that sheet of paper, Paul Lessingham went green and yellow.’
‘Ask him, my lord.’
‘Probably, later on, that is what I shall do. In the meantime, I am asking you. Answer,—or look out for squalls.’