In a second de Roda had flung himself on his knees and was groping in the aperture.
"They are here!" he screamed wildly. "My God, they are here!"
Sobbing with excitement, he began to drag out handful after handful of rough uncut stones, which rolled about the floor as he dropped them in his frantic haste.
Manning stood looking down on him as though he were regarding the antics of a child.
"Don't get too excited," he said soothingly. "You will only make yourself ill if you do." He beckoned to Craill. With staring eyes fixed upon the treasure, the latter shambled across the room. "Go into the kitchen," he added, "and see if you can find something to put them in. There's pretty sure to be a bag or basket about, and I don't suppose Mr. Dryden will object to giving us the loan of it."
Craill turned obediently towards the baize door, but he was checked by another gesture.
"I shall also want some paraffin oil," continued Manning in the same dispassionate tone. "Let me have all you can find, and if you come across any old newspapers bring them as well."
He glanced once more at de Roda, who was gloating over the diamonds and babbling to himself, then with his hands in his side pockets he strolled back to where I was pinioned.
"And now, Mr. John Dryden," he said, "I have time to attend to you."
For a moment we stood face to face, his china blue eyes fixed upon mine with a kind of pitiless satisfaction. I felt sure that I was very close to death. Even though Bobby and Campbell arrived in the course of the next few minutes, it would make no difference to my own fate. Manning would certainly kill me if it were his last act on earth, and in the absolute conviction that whatever happened I was a doomed man, a curious and almost detached calm seemed to find its way into my heart.