"Yes," said Mr. Croombe, "but supposing I see it there—when I have gone away?"
"I don't know," said Mrs. Croombe vaguely. "Perhaps they don't travel—hallucinations, I mean."
Meanwhile, the hallucination itself was concealed under the bed of his victim. He waited till host and hostess had gone down. He heard the sound of effusively polite greetings downstairs.
"How good of you to come!"
"Ha!" snorted William to a cardboard hatbox that shared his refuge with him. "Just you wait!"
Then he crept out and began to look around the room. He managed to find some of Mr. Croombe's handkerchiefs and was disappointed not to find red triangles on them, but he found a horseshoe on one, and that was just as likely to be the sign of a criminal gang. Then he went through the connecting door to Mrs. Croombe's bedroom. He opened a drawer and saw a leather box. There was a key in it, but it was not locked. He opened it—pearls, rubies, emeralds—all the stolen jewellery.
"Ha!" said William.
He emptied it into the pocket of his dressing-gown. He looked round the room again. There were some silver boxes and candlesticks. William's stern frown deepened.
"Ha!" he said again.
All stolen things. He put them also in his pockets.