“Miss Cutler,” he said, this time very suddenly, “was it the scarab?”
Her frightened stare told him he had guessed right.
“What—what scarab?” she breathed.
“Mr. Locke had a scarab—a lucky piece. Charley calls it a Flyaway! That’s what made me think of it—when I saw where you have hidden the thing. And a wonderfully clever place! You are a marvel!”
“I don’t know what you mean”
“Oh, yes, you do know what I mean. If you don’t—I’ll show you.”
Unfastening his cuff-link, and pushing back his sleeve, Hutchins thrust his arm into a globe of goldfish, and from among the little stones at the bottom, he brought up a stone scarab.
“A valuable one,” he commented, looking at its Egyptian inscription. “And more valuable, I suppose, for its lucky powers. And the dead woman had this in her hand?”
“Yes, she did,” said Pearl Jane, angrily, “make the most of it!”
“I most certainly shall,” said Hutchins, gravely, and with the scarab and the stained glove both in his possession, he went away.
