"Yes, and no!" he answered evasively. "Really I have come to ask you for something—the mahogany case which is in your smaller Etruscan urn!"
Jesson stared; first at Sheard, and then, significantly, at Crofter.
"I begin to suspect that you have lunched unwisely!" he sneered.
Sheard repressed a hot retort, and Crofter, to cover the embarrassment which he felt at this seeming contretemps, hummed softly and instituted a painstaking search for the vessel referred to. He experienced little difficulty in finding it, for it was one of two huge urns standing upon ebony pedestals.
"The smaller, you say?" he called with affected cheeriness.
Sheard nodded. It was a crucial moment. Did the pot contain anything? If not, he had made a fool of himself. And if it did, in what way could its contents assist him in his campaign of extortion?
The artist, standing on tiptoe, reached into the urn—and produced a mahogany case, such as is used for packing silver ware.
"What's that?" rapped Jesson excitedly. "I know nothing of it!"
"You might open it, Crofter!" directed Sheard with enforced calm.
Crofter did so—and revealed, in a nest of black velvet, a small piece of exquisite pottery.