“Because you are undoubtedly watched,” he said. “I shouldn’t wonder but what every movement of yours is known to your rivals.”
“Well,” I laughed, “fortune-hunting seems an exciting game.”
“Mind that it doesn’t grow dangerous,” was the old man’s ominous warning.
“But you don’t anticipate any personal violence, do you?”
“I think it is wise to be very careful,” he said. “You have a secret rival in these investigations of yours, and where a fortune is concerned some people are not over-scrupulous. We have here an illustration of their desperate efforts—the employment of professional burglars.”
“But if even we found the Italian’s hoard, would it not belong to the Wollertons?”
“I suppose it would. But,” smiled the man, “if we could not discover any Wollerton, and held the property for ourselves, I think our position would practically be impregnable.”
“The Government might claim it.”
“No. It would not be treasure-trove. We have all the facts concerning it in our possession. It would not be a hoard accidentally discovered and without owner. One-third of it, remember, has to go to a Knutton.”
“Yes, to that drunken fool down at Rockingham. He deserves, at any rate, to lose his portion,” I said.