“Bring Mr Cecil, Mold,” he ordered, and locked the door again as the keeper went off on his fresh errand.
This task Mold completed in a very short time. Sir Clinton opened at his knock and Cecil Chacewater came into the museum. He was dressed as a Swiss admiral and behind him came Una Rainhill in the costume of Cleopatra.
Sir Clinton wasted no time in preliminaries.
“I’ve sent for you, Cecil, because I want to know exactly what part you played in this business to-night.”
Cecil Chacewater opened his eyes in astonishment.
“You seem to be a bit of a super-sleuth! How did you spot us so quickly?”
Quite obviously Cecil was not greatly perturbed at being found out, as Sir Clinton noted with a certain relief. So far as he was concerned, the thing had been only a prank.
“Tell me exactly what happened after you came in here before the lights went out,” the Chief Constable demanded in a curt tone.
Cecil glanced at Una. Sir Clinton caught the look.
“We know all about Miss Rainhill’s part in the affair,” he explained bluntly.
“Oh, in that case,” said Cecil, “there’s no particular reason why I should keep back anything. Una, Foxy, and I planned it between us. I take full responsibility for that. I wanted to upset this sale, if I could. I’m not ashamed of that.”
“I know all about that,” Sir Clinton pointed out, coldly. “What I wish to know is exactly what happened after you came in here to steal these medallions.”
Cecil seemed impressed by the Chief Constable’s tone.
“I’ll tell you, then. We’ve nothing to conceal. I came in here at about twenty to twelve and sauntered about the room, pretending to look at the cases as if I’d never seen them before. My part was to mark down Mold and prevent him interfering.”
Sir Clinton nodded to show that he knew all this.
“Rather before I expected it, the light went out. Oh, there was a shot fired just then. I didn’t understand that part of it, but I supposed that Foxy had brought a pistol with him and fired a blank cartridge just to add a touch of interest to the affair. It wasn’t on the bill of fare, so I imagine it must have been one of these last-minute improvements. Anyhow, I did my part of the business: jumped on Mold and held him while Foxy got away with the stuff. Then, when he’d had time to get away, I let Mold go and made a bee-line for the door myself. I could swear no one spotted me in the dark, and I was well mixed up in the mob before the lights went on again.”
“Did you pay particular attention to what Polegate was doing while you were busy with the keeper?”
“No. Mold gave me all I wanted in the way of trouble.”
“You’re sure it was Mold you got hold of? You didn’t make any mistake?”
Cecil reflected for a moment.
“I don’t see how I could have gripped the wrong man. I’d marked him down while the light was on.”
“Can you remember anything about sounds of breaking glass?”
Cecil pondered before replying.
“It seemed to me that there was a lot of glass-breaking—more than I’d expected. The light was hardly out before there was a smash and tinkle all over the place. Foxy must have got to work quicker than I’d allowed for. And I remember hearing quite a lot of hammering and smashing going on after that, as if he’d found it difficult to make a big enough hole in the glass of the case. I thought he’d bungled the business, and it was all I could do to keep my grip on Mold long enough to get the thing safely through.”
Sir Clinton dismissed that part of the subject. He turned to Una.
“Now, Miss Rainhill, I believe your part in the affair was to pull out the main switch of the house?”
“Yes,” Una admitted, looking rather surprised at the extent of his knowledge.
“Did you carry out your part of the arrangement punctually, or were you late in getting the current off?”
“I pulled out the switch to the very second. I had my hand on it and my eye on my wrist-watch; and when it came to 11.45 I jerked it out and the lights went off. I was absolutely right to a second, I’m sure.”
“And you thought Miss Rainhill had been a shade before her time, Cecil?”
“So it seemed to me. I hadn’t a chance of looking at my watch; and of course after the lights went off I couldn’t spare time to look.”
At this moment another knock came to the door and Foxy Clifford burst into the museum. Sir Clinton noticed that he was masquerading as a Harlequin.
“Heard you’d been asking for me, Sir Clinton,” he broke out as he came into the room. “Seems the keeper had been inquiring for me. So I came along as soon as I heard about it.”
He glanced inquisitively at Cecil and Una, as though wondering what they were doing there.
Sir Clinton wasted no words.
“The medallions, Mr Polegate, please.”
Foxy made a very good pretence of astonishment at the demand; but Cecil cut him short.
“You may as well hand them over, Foxy. They seem to know all about the joke.”
“Oh, they do, do they?” Foxy exclaimed. “They seem to have been mighty swift about it. That little joke’s gone astray, evidently.”
He seemed completely taken aback by the exposure.
