At this point Lambart entered, and coming toward him, delivered a small package.
“Pardon me, sir,” the butler began, “but Mr Vaughan asked me to take this to your room.”
“What is it?” Denby asked, and a slight movement behind the screen betokened the curiosity of the man hidden there.
“Mr. Vaughan didn’t say, sir,” Lambart returned. “He only said it was very important for you to get it immediately.” Lambart bowed and retired.
“I wonder what on earth Monty can be sending me at this time of the night,” said Denby, balancing the thing as though to judge its contents from the weight. “It must be important, so forgive me if I see what it is.”
He tore the envelope open carelessly, and out of it dropped the necklace. Quickly he stooped down and picked it up, putting it in his left-hand coat-pocket.
The girl could not refrain from giving a cry as he did so. “Oh,” she exclaimed, “we’re done for now.”
There was a crash behind them as the screen clattered to the floor and Daniel Taylor stepped over it, levelled gun in hand.
“Hands up, Denby,” he commanded, and then blew his police whistle.
He looked sourly at the trembling girl by the table. “I don’t know how you tipped him off, but you two are damned smart, aren’t you? But I’ve got you both now, so it’s just as well it happened as it did.”