wound round and round the back of the head. And into it he slipped his own long, thin fingers—to draw them out again with an exclamation which indicated satisfaction with his own convictions.
"Just as I said," he remarked. "Gone! Mr. Detective—that's where Chen Li hid the diamond—and that Japanese man has got it. And now—you'd better be after him—half-an-hour's start to him is as good as a week's would be to you."
He drew the sheet over the dead face and strode out, and Ayscough followed, angry, mystified, and by no means convinced.
"Look here!" he said, as they reached the ante-room; "that's all very well, Dr. Mirandolet, but it's only supposition on your part!"
"Supposition that you'll find to be absolute truth, my good friend!" retorted Mirandolet, calmly. "I know the Chinese—better than you think. As soon as I heard of this affair tonight, I came to you to put you up to the Chinese trick of secreting things of value in their pigtails—it did not occur to me that the diamond might be there in this case, but I thought you would probably find something. But when we reached this mortuary, and I heard that a Japanese had been here, presenting your card when he had no business to present it, I guessed immediately what had happened—and now that you tell me that you told him all about this affair, well—I am certain of my assertion. Mr. Detective—go after the diamond!"
He turned as if to leave the place, and Ayscough followed.
