I had not sent my name up to him, but simply an urgent message that a gentleman wished to see him on very pressing and important business.
"Mr. Tamworth."
"Whom have I the pleasure to address?" he inquired as he bowed stiffly.
"My name is Dick Donovan," I answered. "I am ———"
He interrupted me by exclaiming:—
"Oh, yes, I have heard of you. You are a detective." I bowed. "Presumably," he continued, "you have come here in connection with the case of my dear niece?" He seemed to be overcome by emotion, and turning towards the window he applied a large bandana handkerchief to his eyes.
"I am not indifferent to the fact," I answered, "that the subject is necessarily a delicate and painful one. But from an interview I had with your niece I am forced to the conclusion that she is only guilty in degree."
"How do you mean?" he asked, turning quickly towards me, with an expression of mental suffering on his face.
"I mean that she is a victim to the machinations of a villain."
"A victim," he echoed, hoarsely. "A victim to whom?"
"To your coachman."
He almost reeled at this announcement, and passed his hand over his bald head in a confused, distressed way; and then, with something like a wail he exclaimed:—
"My God, this is an awful revelation."
He rushed towards the bell and was about to ring it when I stopped him by saying:—
"What are you going to do?"
"Send for Tupper, the coachman."
"Wait a bit," I said. "I should like to have some particulars of Tupper. What is his Christian name?"
"John."
"Has he been with you long?"
"Just twelve months, I think."
"Have you ever had occasion to suspect his honesty?"
"Never for a single instant."
"Is he married?"
"I cannot tell you. I absolutely know nothing about his family affairs."
"Well now, I have a suggestion to make, Mr. Tamworth. I should like you to send for Tupper, and question him closely about what happened on the day that the pendant was stolen. And particularly I would like you to put this question to him, after you have skilfully led up to it: 'Is it possible, Tupper, that my unhappy and misguided niece handed you the pendant, and you know what has become of it?'"
"I will do so," answered Mr. Tamworth, as he went towards the bell.
"Stop a minute, sir," I said. "There is one other important point. It is desirable that Tupper should not see me. Can you conceal me behind that screen in the corner, and in such a position that I can see without being seen? And you must not forget to place Tupper in such a way that I can get a full view of his face."
"I don't think there will be any difficulty in that," Mr. Tamworth answered, and he requested me to follow him behind the screen. I did so, and taking out his penknife he bored a hole in one leaf of the screen, so that anyone looking through the hole commanded a full view of the room.
"There," he said, "I think that will answer your purpose. And now we will have the old villain here."
He rang the bell, and a very respectable-looking man-servant appeared.
"Robert," said Mr. Tamworth, peremptorily, "send the coachman here."
"Tupper's away, sir."
"Away!"
"Yes. He went out last night and didn't come back."
