“But why?” I asked, recollecting all the curious events of the past, and remembering my conversation with that strange woman in black who had so ingeniously stolen the Arnoldus.
Wyman shrugged his shoulders, saying:
“It is never any good inquiring into the motives of either man or woman. The cleverest man can never gauge them accurately.”
“Well,” remarked Fred Fenwicke, “the move in this case is undoubtedly the recovery of the treasure.”
“But the treasure, if it exists, is mine!” I said. “I purchased the book and deciphered the secret. Therefore I may surely make investigations with profit to myself?”
“You may make investigations, but without profit, I fear, so far as Threave is concerned,” was Fred’s calm reply.
“I don’t understand you,” I said. “The book was offered to me at a fair price, and I purchased it. Whatever I found within I may surely use to my own advantage?”
“Observing, of course, the law of treasure-trove,” was my host’s remark.
“Of course.”
“Then whatever you find must either go to the Crown or to the lord of the manor.”