"Look out!" cautioned Blake. "I opened one square to see what it was he had hidden. You'll find he hadn't been too daffy to melt the settings—keys or no keys. Say, but it's luck to learn they're yours! Hope they're all there."
"All the good ones will be. He couldn't have sold or pawned any of the best stones after we cabled. Gad! won't the pater be tickled! Ah!"
From the open square of which Blake had spoken, his lordship drew out a resplendent ruby. "Centre stone of Lady Anne's brooch!"
He ran his immaculate finger-tips over the many squares in the cloth. "A stone in every one—must be all of the really valuable loot! The settings were out of date—small value. How'd you get it from him, Tom?"
Blake hesitated, and answered in a low tone: "He got hurt the night of the second cyclone. But he wasn't responsible—poor devil! He must have been dotty all along. It didn't show much before—but I felt uneasy. That's why I built that thorn door—so she could bar herself in."
Lord James stared in horrified surprise. "You really do not mean—?"
"Yes—and it almost happened! God!" Again Blake clenched his teeth and the cold sweat burst out on his forehead.
"My word! That's worse than the snake!" murmured Lord James.
"She—she'd left the door up—heat was stifling," explained Blake. "I had gone off north, exploring. The beast was crawling in—But I've got to remember he wasn't responsible—a paranoiac!"
"Ah, yes. And then?" questioned the Englishman, tugging nervously at the tip of his little blond mustache.