Merrilees flapped back his coat for a moment, showing a badge. Edward stared at him with eyes that popped out of his head.

‘And now,’ said the other almost genially, ‘you see what you are up against! You are a novice—I can tell that. Your first job, isn’t it?’

James nodded.

‘I thought as much. Now, my boy, are you going to hand over that emerald, or have I got to search you?’

James found his voice.

‘I—I haven’t got it on me,’ he declared.

He was thinking desperately.

‘Left it at your lodgings?’ queried Merrilees.

James nodded.

‘Very well, then,’ said the detective, ‘we will go there together.’

He slipped his arm through James’s.

‘I am taking no chances of your getting away from me,’ he said gently. ‘We will go to your lodgings, and you will hand that stone over to me.’

James spoke unsteadily.

‘If I do, will you let me go?’ he asked tremulously.

Merrilees appeared embarrassed.

‘We know just how that stone was taken,’ he explained, ‘and about the lady involved, and, of course, as far as that goes—well, the Rajah wants it hushed up. You know what these Indian rulers are?’

James, who knew nothing whatsoever about Indian rulers, except for one cause célèbre, nodded his head with an appearance of eager comprehension.

‘It will be most irregular, of course,’ said the detective; ‘but you may get off scot-free.’

Again James nodded. They had walked the length of the Esplanade, and were now turning into the town. James intimated the direction, but the other man never relinquished his sharp grip on James’s arm.

Suddenly James hesitated and half-spoke. Merrilees looked up sharply, and then laughed. They were just passing the police station, and he noticed James’s agonized glances at it.

‘I am giving you a chance first,’ he said good-humouredly.

It was at that moment that things began to happen. A loud bellow broke from James, he clutched the other’s arm, and yelled at the top of his voice:

‘Help! thief. Help! thief.’

A crowd surrounded them in less than a minute. Merrilees was trying to wrench his arm from James’s grasp.

‘I charge this man,’ cried James. ‘I charge this man, he picked my pocket.’

‘What are you talking about, you fool?’ cried the other.

A constable took charge of matters. Mr Merrilees and James were escorted into the police station. James reiterated his complaint.

‘This man has just picked my pocket,’ he declared excitedly. ‘He has got my note-case in his right-hand pocket, there!’

‘The man is mad,’ grumbled the other. ‘You can look for yourself, inspector, and see if he is telling the truth.’

At a sign from the inspector, the constable slipped his hand deferentially into Merrilees’s pocket. He drew something out and held it up with a gasp of astonishment.