He
crossed the strip of turf with giant strides and got into cover again, but
not quick enough to prevent me recognizing him. It was--great
heavens!--the bishop! In a soft hat pulled over his forehead, with a long
cloak and a big stick, he looked like a poacher.
Guided by some mysterious instinct I hurried to meet him. I opened the
conservatory door, and in he rushed like a hunted rabbit. Without
explanation I led him up the wide staircase to my room, where he dropped
into a chair and wiped his face.
"You are astonished, Mr. Acton," he panted. "I will explain directly.
Thanks." He tossed off the glass of brandy I had poured out without
waiting for the qualifying soda, and looked better.
"I am in serious trouble. You can help me. I've had a shock to-day--a
grievous shock." He stopped and tried to pull himself together. "I must
trust you implicitly, Mr. Acton, I have no choice. Tell me what you think
of this." He drew a case from his breast pocket and opened it. "I promised
you should see the Valdez sapphire. Look there!"
The Valdez sapphire! A great big shining lump of blue crystal--flawless
and of perfect color--that was all. I took it up, breathed on it, drew out
my magnifier, looked at it in one light and another. What was wrong with
it? I could not say. Nine experts out of ten would undoubtedly have
pronounced the stone genuine.
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