I knew that only too well. Rudolph Rayne took the most elaborate precautions to preserve a clean pair of hands himself, no matter what dirty work he planned to be carried out by others.
“Duperré saw me in London yesterday, gave me that piece of card, and told me to come here and explain matters,” the Italian went on in a low voice. “You see this case. I am to hand it to you,” and as he took it, he touched the bottom, which I saw was hinged and fell inwards in two pieces, both of which sprang back again into their places by means of strong springs. My small collar-box stood upon the dressing-table.
“You see how it works,” he said, and placing the attaché-case over the collar-box, he snatched it up and the collar-box had disappeared inside! It was an old invention of thieves and possessed no originality. I wondered that Rayne’s friends employed such a contrivance, which, of course, was useful when it became necessary that valuable objects should disappear.
“Well, and what of it?” I asked, as, opening the case, he took out my collar-box and replaced it upon the table.
“I am told that you are on very friendly terms with Lady Lydbrook. Our friend old Hesketh has been here and watched your progress—a grey-mustached man with a slight limp. I dare say you may have noticed him.”
I recollected the silent watcher who I had feared might be a detective, and who had recently left the hotel. So Rayne had set secret watch upon my movements—a fact which irritated me.
“Yes. I know Sir Owen’s wife,” I said. “Why?”
“Possibly you don’t know that she has in a small dark-green morocco case a rope of pearls worth twenty thousand, as well as some other magnificent jewels. Haven’t you seen her wearing her pearls?”
“I have,” I said, “but I put them down as artificial ones.”
“No—every one of them is real! They were a present to her from her husband on her marriage,” said the foreigner, his dark eyes glowing as he spoke. “We want them,” he whispered eagerly. “And as you know her, you’ll have to get them.”