“I am only awaiting their appointment,” I said laughing. “It will be the last they will make outside a gaol.”
“But do be careful, Paul,” she, urged, with all a woman’s solicitude for the safety of her lover. I told her, however, to have no fear.
Two hours later she was at Chelsea assisting us to open the great chests and examine their dazzling contents.
I had called at a famous dealer’s in Piccadilly, and in confidence obtained the assistance of an expert, who now stood with us absolutely bewildered at the magnificence of the jewels. Some of the gems, he declared, were without equal—the finest he had ever seen.
But I may, I think, pass over that morning spent in examining our find. Let it suffice to say that the expert went back to Piccadilly, declaring that the collection was worth a very considerable sum, and hoping that his firm might have the offer of purchasing a portion, if not the whole of it.
At three o’clock, after Dorothy had lunched with Usher and myself in Mrs. Richardson’s sitting-room, my own being filled to overflowing, the servant handed me a telegram, which read —
“Miss Drummond has met with accident. Wishes to see you immediately.—Clark, 76, Lavender Road, Battersea.”
It was the invitation into the fatal trap! I showed it to Dorothy and to Usher, and while the former grew serious and apprehensive, the latter laughed outright.
At four o’clock, accompanied by Usher, Reilly, and two police officers in plain clothes from the Chelsea Station, I reached the corner of Lavender Road and York Road, where I took leave of my companions and went in search of No. 76. It was a small, eight-roomed house, one of a long row of similar dwellings, and when I knocked and inquired for Mr. Clark, the rough-looking lad who opened the door at once invited me inside.