I promise you that Mr. Walmsley and I will return alone,
and that I will give no intimation of your presence here to any person
whatsoever."
Rodwell was puzzled. He rose slowly to his feet, however, and walked
toward the basin at the other end of the apartment.
"All right!" he agreed sullenly. "I shall be here."
Mr. Bundercombe and I descended into the street. I was feeling a little
dazed. Mr. Bundercombe led the way into the Tarteran establishment, which
was still in a state of disorder. He asked to speak to the principal, who
came forward, still looking very perturbed.
"Sorry to hear of this robbery!" Mr. Bundercombe said. "Have they caught
the fellow?"
"They caught the man in the motor car," the manager groaned; "but he had
no jewels on him and my people can't swear to him. He seems to have a very
coherent story."
"Have you communicated with the police?" Mr. Bundercombe asked.
The manager stretched out his hand.
"Four of them are in the place now," he answered, a little despairingly.
"What's the good? The fellow's got away! He's got the finest necklace in
the shop with him, gems worth twenty thousand pounds."
Mr. Bundercombe nodded sympathetically.
"Have you offered a reward yet?"
"We can't do everything in ten minutes!" the manager replied, a little
testily.
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