A passage hitherto obscure in Séverac Bablon's letter instantly explained itself in Sheard's mind. "I did not further weary you with a discourse upon Egyptology; moreover, I had a matter of urgency to attend to!"
Sir Leopold Jesson took one step forward, and then, with staring eyes, and face unusually pale, turned on the journalist.
"The Hamilton Vase! You villain!"
"Sir Leopold!" cried Sheard with sudden asperity, "be good enough to moderate your language! If you can offer any explanation of how this vase, stolen only last night from the national collection, comes to be concealed in your house, I shall be interested to hear it!"
Jesson looked at Crofter, who still held the case in his hands; the artist's face expressed nothing but blank amazement. He looked at Sheard, who met his eyes calmly.
"There is roguery here!" he said. "I don't know if there are two of you——"
"Sir Leopold Jesson!" cried Crofter angrily, "you have said more than enough! Your hobby has become a mania, sir! How you obtained possession of the vase I do not know, nor do I know how my friend has traced the theft to you; least of all how this scandal is to be hushed up. But have the decency to admit facts! There is no defence, absolutely!"
"What do you want?" said Jesson tersely. "This is a cunning trap—and I've fallen right into it!"
"You have!" said Crofter grimly. "I must congratulate my friend on a very smart piece of detective work!"
"What do you want?" repeated Jesson, moistening his dry lips.