“Let’s have a look at it.”
Count Sylvius cast a somewhat unflattering glance at his associate, and disregarded the unwashed hand which was extended towards him.
“What—d’ye think I’m going to snatch it off you? See here, mister, I’m getting a bit tired of your ways.”
“Well, well; no offence, Sam. We can’t afford to quarrel. Come over to the window if you want to see the beauty properly. Now hold it to the light! Here!”
“Thank you!”
With a single spring Holmes had leaped from the dummy’s chair and had grasped the precious jewel. He held it now in one hand, while his other pointed a revolver at the Count’s head. The two villains staggered back in utter amazement. Before they had recovered Holmes had pressed the electric bell.
“No violence, gentlemen—no violence, I beg of you! Consider the furniture! It must be very clear to you that your position is an impossible one. The police are waiting below.”
The Count’s bewilderment overmastered his rage and fear.
“But how the deuce———?” he gasped.
“Your surprise is very natural. You are not aware that a second door from my bedroom leads behind that curtain. I fancied that you must have heard me when I displaced the figure, but luck was on my side. It gave me a chance of listening to your racy conversation which would have been painfully constrained had you been aware of my presence.”
The Count gave a gesture of resignation.
