“And what did you do, Zadowa?” The Reverend Theodosius’s voice was very soft. “How did you dispose of one or all those men so that no suspicion is likely to rest on you?”
The hunchback rubbed his hands together gleefully.
“By an act which, I think you will agree, is very nearly worthy of yourself, monsieur. To shoot was impossible—because I am not sufficiently expert with a revolver to be sure of killing them. No—nothing so ordinary as that. They saw me watching them: ‘I can see his eyes, Hugh,’ said one of them to the leader, and I remember suddenly that in the passage not far from where I stood were half a dozen bombs—What is it, monsieur?”
He paused in alarm at the look on the clergyman’s face as he slowly rose.
“Bombs!” he snarled. “Bombs! Tell me what you did, you dreg!”
“Why,” stammered the frightened hunchback, “I threw one into the room. I no longer wanted it as an office, and…Ah, heaven, don’t murder me!…What have I done?”
His words died away in a dreadful gurgle, as the clergyman, his face diabolical with fury, sprang on him and gripped him by the throat. He shook the hunchback as a terrier shakes a rat, cursing horribly under his breath—and for a moment or two it seemed as if the other’s fear was justified. There was murder in the big man’s face, until the touch of the girl’s hand on his arm steadied him and brought him to his senses. With a last spasm of fury he hurled the wretched Zadowa into a corner, and left him lying there; then his iron self-control came back to him.
“Get up,” he ordered tensely, “and answer some questions.”
Trembling all over, the hunchback staggered to his feet, and came into the centre of the room. “Monsieur,” he whined, “I do not understand. What have I done?”
“You don’t need to understand!” snarled the clergyman. “Tell me exactly what happened when the bomb burst.”
“It killed the three men, monsieur,” stammered the other.
“Curse the three men!” He lifted his clenched fist, and Zadowa shrank back. “What happened to the room?”
“It was wrecked utterly. A great hole was blown in the wall.”
“And what happened to the desk?”
“I don’t know exactly, monsieur,” stammered the other. “I didn’t go back to see. But it must have been blown to matchwood. Only as there was nothing inside of importance it makes no odds.”
“Did you look in the secret drawer at the back of the centre opening? You didn’t know there was one, did you? Only I knew of its existence, and short of taking the desk to pieces no one would be able to find it. And you took the desk to pieces, Zadowa, didn’t you? You blew it to pieces, Zadowa, didn’t you? Just to kill the leader of this trumpery gang, Zadowa, you cursed fool!”
Step by step the hunchback was retreating before the other, terror convulsing his face, until the wall brought him to an abrupt stop.
“You blew the desk to pieces, Zadowa,” continued the Reverend Theodosius, standing in front of him, “a desk that contained the six most perfect diamonds in the world, Zadowa. With your wretched bomb, you worm, you destroyed a fortune. What have you got to say?”
“I didn’t know, monsieur,” cringed the other. “How could I know? When were they put there?”
“I put them there this afternoon for safety. Not in my wildest imagination did I dream that you would start throwing bombs about the place.”
“Perhaps they are not destroyed,” stammered the hunchback hopefully.
“In which case they are now in the hands of the police. You have one chance, Zadowa, and only one. It is that those diamonds are in the hands of the police. If they are and you can get them—I will say no more.”
“But if they have been destroyed, monsieur?” muttered the other.
“Then, Zadowa, I am afraid you will share their fate.”
Almost indifferently the clergyman turned back into the room, taking no notice whatever of the wretched man who followed him on his knees begging for mercy. And then after a while the hunchback pulled himself together and stood up.
“It was a mistake, monsieur,” he said quietly, “which I deeply regret. It was, however, you must admit, hardly my fault. I will do my best.”
“Let us hope, then, for your sake, Zadowa, that your best will be successful. Now go.”
He pointed to the door, and without another word the hunchback went.
“I’m glad you were here tonight, my dear,” remarked the Reverend Theodosius. “I don’t often lose my temper, but I very nearly killed that man this evening.” The girl rose and came over to where he was standing.
“I don’t understand, mon cheri,” she said quietly. “What diamonds are these you talk about?”
The man gave a short, hard laugh.
“I didn’t tell you,” he answered. “There was no object in your knowing for a time. I know your weakness where jewels are concerned too well, my dear; I got them the night before last in Amsterdam. Do you remember that Russian—Stanovitch? That wasn’t his real name. He was the eldest son of the Grand Duke Georgius, and he had just arrived from Russia.”
“The man who took that overdose of his sleeping-draught?” whispered the girl barely above her breath.
The Reverend Theodosius smiled grimly.
“So they decided,” he remarked. “He confided in me the night before he came to his sad end what he had been doing in Russia. His father had hidden the family heirlooms from the Bolshevists, and our young friend went over to retrieve them. Most ingenious—the way he got them out of Russia. Such a pity he had a lapse with his sleep dope.”
And now the Reverend Theodosius was snarling like a mad dog.
“By heavens, girl—do you wonder that I nearly killed that fool Zadowa? The coup of a lifetime—safely brought off. Not a trace of suspicion on me—not a trace. I know I said I wasn’t over here on side-shows, but I couldn’t have been expected to let such a chance slip by. And then, after having got them safely into his country to lose them like that. Why, do you know that one of them was the rose diamond of the Russian Crown jewels?”
The girl’s eyes glistened, then she shrugged her shoulders.
“They would have been unsaleable, mon ami,” she said quietly.
“Don’t you believe it,” snapped the other. “There are markets for anything in the world, if one takes the trouble to look for them.”
He was pacing up and down the room, and for a while she stood watching him in silence.
“I’m glad I didn’t know about them till now,” she said at length. “I might not have stopped you killing him, if I had. And it would have been rather awkward.”
He gave a short laugh, and threw the end of his cigar into the grate.
“No good crying over spilt milk, my dear. Let’s go to bed.”
But little Janet still stood by the table watching him thoughtfully.
“What are you thinking about?”
“I was thinking about a rather peculiar coincidence,” she answered quietly. “You were too worried over the diamonds to notice it—but it struck me instantly. The leader of this gang—this huge man whom Zadowa killed tonight. Did you notice what his Christian name was?”
The Reverend Theodosius shook his head.
“It was Hugh—Zadowa heard one of the others call him by name. Hugh, mon ami; Hugh—and a huge