He stopped.
'Hadn't you better get out of here, don't you think?' he said,
curtly.
Without a word, McEachern walked to the door, and went out.
Jimmy dropped into a chair with a deep breath. He took up his
cigarette-case, but before he could light a match the gong sounded
from the distance.
He rose, and laughed rather shakily. He felt limp. 'As an effort at
conciliating papa,' he said, 'I'm afraid that wasn't much of a
success.'
It was not often that McEachern was visited by ideas. He ran rather
to muscle than to brain. But he had one that evening during dinner.
His interview with Jimmy had left him furious, but baffled. He knew
that his hands were tied. Frontal attack was useless. To drive Jimmy
from the castle would be out of the question. All that could be done
was to watch him while he was there. For he had never been more
convinced of anything in his life than that Jimmy had wormed his way
into the house-party with felonious intent. The appearance of Lady
Julia at dinner, wearing the famous rope of diamonds, supplied an
obvious motive. The necklace had an international reputation.
Probably, there was not a prominent thief in England or on the
Continent who had not marked it down as a possible prey. It had
already been tried for, once. It was big game, just the sort of lure
that would draw the type of criminal McEachern imagined Jimmy to be.
From his seat at the far end of the table, Jimmy looked at the
jewels as they gleamed on their wearer's neck. They were almost too
ostentatious for what was, after all, an informal dinner. It was not
a rope of diamonds. It was a collar. There was something Oriental
and barbaric in the overwhelming display of jewelry. It was a prize
for which a thief would risk much.
The conversation, becoming general with the fish, was not of a kind
to remove from his mind the impression made by the sight of the
gems. It turned on burglary.
Lord Dreever began it.
'Oh, I say,' he said, 'I forgot to tell you, Aunt Julia, Number Six
was burgled the other night.'
Number 6a, Eaton Square, was the family's London house.
'Burgled!' cried Sir Thomas.
'Well, broken into,' said his lordship, gratified to find that he
had got the ear of his entire audience. Even Lady Julia was silent
and attentive. 'Chap got in through the scullery window about one
o'clock in the morning.'
'And what did you do?' inquired Sir Thomas.
'Oh, I--er--I was out at the time,' said Lord Dreever. 'But
something frightened the feller,' he went on hurriedly, 'and he made
a bolt for it without taking anything.'
'Burglary,' said a young man, whom Jimmy subsequently discovered to
be the drama-loving Charteris, leaning back and taking advantage of
a pause, 'is the hobby of the sportsman and the life work of the
avaricious.' He took a little pencil from his waistcoat pocket, and
