“Good night!” Sandy was amazed. “Jeff, that’s the family history of the Everdails, that I saw when I visited the farm boys and found out you and Mimi were married.”
“That-there is it,” agreed Jeff, taking several tintypes from an envelope. “Boss, read that history of your family and see if it makes it plain why anybody wanted to destroy your gems.”
In the light of a flare, Mr. Everdail perused the pages.
“As I live and breathe!” he exclaimed.
“Yeah,” grinned Jeff. “Thanks to Sandy for leaving the book there, and thanks to—a certain relative of yours for leaving a marker at the right place. Now, take a look at these pictures out of your family album. They are pictures of the man who originally got the emeralds in India, and his son. Whose face that you know is close to being the same?”
With the scream of a madman, Mr. Whiteside leaped to the side of the group.
“Yes!” he babbled. “Yes! I am the son of the branch of your family that originally had the emeralds. My grandfather, for spite against my father, willed them to your family. Those emeralds ought to be mine—and my sister’s”—here he gestured toward the stewardess.
“Yes!” cried Whiteside Everdail—as they now learned his name was—“I grew up hating Atley Everdail’s family. I enlisted in the flying corps, got into his esquadrille, made a buddy of him, won his trust!
“I worked into his confidence, and watched every chance to get the emeralds. My time came when his wife went to London. I had my sister—stewardess, she was—already on the yacht.
“I beat the yacht to London. With her help—forced by threats—I got into the hotel and destroyed the gems—I thought. But on the way back to my room I saw Captain Parks, and began to suspect. I compelled my sister to admit the truth. The real gems were safe.