"You can hang up your receiver for five minutes," the voice said.
"Precisely at half-past twelve you go and look on your front doorstep.
Then come back and tell me what you have found. You need not fear that I
shall go away."

Steel hung up the receiver, feeling that he needed a little rest. His
cigarette was actually scorching his left thumb and forefinger, but he
was heedless of the fact. He flicked up the dining-room lights again and
rapidly made himself a sparklet soda, which he added to a small whisky.
He looked almost lovingly at the gleaming Cellini tankard, at the pools
of light on the fair damask. Was it possible that he was not going to
lose all this, after all?

The Moorish clock in the study droned the half-hour.

David gulped down his whisky and crept shakily to the front door with a
feeling on him that he was doing something stealthily. The bolts and
chain rattled under his trembling fingers. Outside, the whole world
seemed to be sleeping. Under the wide canopy of stars some black object
picked out with shining points lay on the white marble breadth of the top
step. A gun-metal cigar-case set in tiny diamonds.

The novelist fastened the front door and staggered to the study. A
pretty, artistic thing such as David had fully intended to purchase for
himself. He had seen one exactly like it in a jeweller's window in North
Street. He had pointed it out to his mother. Why, it was the very one! No
doubt whatever about it! David had had the case in his hands and had
reluctantly declined the purchase.

He pressed the spring, and the case lay open before him. Inside were