But the miraculous
acceptance by Miss Hollis of that tailor, Pack, decided him to take steps on
suspicion. He vowed that he only wanted to find out where his ruby-studded
silver box had vanished to. You cannot accuse a man on the Government House
List of stealing. And if you rifle his room you are a thief yourself. Churton,
prompted by The Man who Knew, decided on burglary. If he found nothing in
Pack's room . . . . but it is not nice to think of what would have happened in
that case.
Pack went to a dance at Benmore--Benmore WAS Benmore in those days, and not an
office--and danced fifteen waltzes out of twenty-two with Miss Hollis. Churton
and The Man took all the keys that they could lay hands on, and went to Pack's
room in the hotel, certain that his servants would be away. Pack was a cheap
soul. He had not purchased a decent cash-box to keep his papers in, but one of
those native imitations that you buy for ten rupees. It opened to any sort of
key, and there at the bottom, under Pack's Insurance Policy, lay the Bisara of
Pooree!
Churton called Pack names, put the Bisara of Pooree in his pocket, and went to
the dance with The Man. At least, he came in time for supper, and saw the
beginning of the end in Miss Hollis's eyes.
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