"He was packing his bag at the moment, sir, and Mason had evidently been scared from the window by my footsteps in the arch."
"The whole thing is perfectly clear," he said. "Boy, have you got a watch?"
"No," said Philip, surprised by this odd question.
"Bradley, he hasn't got a watch," observed the inspector. He again addressed Philip.
"I am not quite sure, but my address will be known to Mrs. Wrigley, the James Street Laundry, Shepherd's Bush."
"Ah! The constable says you do not wish to be mixed up in the arrest of Mason. There is no need for you to appear in court, but--er--in such cases as yours, the--er--police like to show their--er--appreciation of your services. That is so, Bradley, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir. If it hadn't been for him, I shouldn't be here now. Jocky had me fairly cornered."
"I barely heard he was here, before the window was smashed, and I knew he was trying to get out the other way. You heard him, Anson?"
Philip looked the policeman squarely in the eyes.
"You had just taken off your greatcoat when the glass cracked," he said.
Police Constable Bradley stooped to pick up his coat. He did not wish this portion of the night's proceedings to be described too minutely. In moving the garment he disturbed the packet of letters. Instantly Philip recalled the names of the solicitors mentioned by the constable.
"You said that a clerk from Messrs. Sharpe & Smith called here twice?" he asked.
He picked out one of the letters, opened it, and made certain of his facts before he cried, angrily:
"Then I want to have nothing whatever to do with them. They treated my mother shamefully."
"What is the date of that letter?" he inquired.
"Yes, some of my mother's jewelry and dresses. Her wedding ring was the last to go. Most of them are out of date, but I intend to--I will try to save some of them, especially her wedding ring."
Jocky Mason's romance was now dissipated into thin air. The contents of the portmanteau, the squalid appearance of the house, the date of the solicitor's letter, the bundle of pawn tickets, offered conclusive evidence to the inspector's matter-of-fact mind that the ex-convict's story was the effect of a truncheon rapidly applied to a brain excited by the newspaper comments on a sensational yarn about some boy who had found a parcel of diamonds.