Maitland attempted to rise, but his legs gave under him, and he sank
back with a stifled oath, resigning himself to wait the return of normal
conditions. As for his head, it was threatening to split at any moment, the
tight wires twanging infernally between his temples; while the corners of
his mouth were cracked and sore from the pressure of the gag. All of which
totted up a considerable debit against Mr. Anisty's account.

For Maitland, despite his suffering, had found time to figure it out to his
personal satisfaction--or dissatisfaction, if you prefer--in the interval
between his return to consciousness and the arrival of O'Hagan. It was
simple enough to deduce from the knowledge in his possession that the
burglar, having contrived his escape through the disobedience of Higgins,
should have engineered this complete revenge for the indignity Maitland had
put upon him.

How he had divined the fact of the jewels remaining in their owner's
possession was less clear; and yet it was reasonable, after all, to presume
that Maitland should prefer to hold his own. Possibly Anisty had seen
the girl slip the canvas bag into Maitland's pocket while the latter was
kneeling and binding his captive. However that was, there was no denying
that he had trailed the treasure to its hiding-place, unerringly; and
succeeded in taking possession of it with consummate skill and audacity.
When Maitland came to think of it, he recalled distinctly the trend of the
burglar's inquisition in the character of "Mr. Snaith," which had all been
calculated to discover the location of the jewels. And, when he did recall
this fact, and how easily he had been duped, Maitland could have ground his
teeth in melodramatic rage--but for the circumstance that when first it
occurred to him, such a feat was a physical impossibility, and even when
ungagged the operation would have been painful to an extreme.