“I thought you’d been held up and robbed,” the younger man cried.
“Neither one nor the other,” Denby said cheerfully, “I was merely the victim of two blow-outs. But,” he added, looking keenly at his confederate, “if I had been held up the pearls wouldn’t have been taken. I didn’t happen to have them with me.”
“Thank God!” Monty cried fervently. “I wondered if that telegraphing to people was just a ruse or not. Hooray, I feel I can eat and drink and be merrier than I’ve been for a month. I never want to hear about them again.”
“I’m sorry, old man,” Denby said smiling, “but I shall have to ask you for them.”
“Me?” Monty stammered. “Don’t joke, Steve.”
“But you very kindly brought them over for me,” Denby returned mildly. “They’re in the right-hand shoe of a pair of buckskin tennis shoes. I put them there when I helped you to repack your trunk. Do you mind bringing them before I’ve finished dressing?”
Monty looked at him reproachfully. “Sometimes I think I ought to have gone into the ministry. I’m getting a perfect horror of crime.”
“You’re not a criminal,” Denby said. “You helped me out on the voyage, but here you are free to do as you like.”
Monty set his jaw firmly. “I’m in it with you, Steve, till you’ve got the damned things where you want ’em, and you can’t prevent me, either.”
When he brought the precious necklace back Denby calmly placed the pouch in his pocket. “Thanks, old man,” he said casually. “Now the fun begins.”