Mollison appeared to find this direct question soothing to his feelings.  He smiled weakly.

“It was cert’nly me as took it, sir,” he said.  “Not that I meant to pinch it—­not me!  And, as you might say, I didn’t take it, when all’s said and done.  It was—­put on me.”

“Put on you, was it?” said Spargo.  “That’s interesting.  And how was it put on you?”

Mollison grinned again and rubbed his chin.

“It was this here way,” he answered.  “You see, I was working at that time—­near on to nine months since, it is—­for the Universal Daylight Window Cleaning Company, and I used to clean a many windows here and there in the Temple, and them windows at Mr. Aylmore’s—­only I knew them as Mr. Anderson’s—­among ’em.  And I was there one morning, early it was, when the charwoman she says to me, ’I wish you’d take these two or three hearthrugs,’ she says, ’and give ’em a good beating,’ she says.  And me being always a ready one to oblige, ‘All right!’ I says, and takes ’em.  ’Here’s something to wallop ’em with,’ she says, and pulls that there old stick out of a lot that was in a stand in a corner of the lobby.  And that’s how I came to handle it, sir.”

“I see,” said Spargo.  “A good explanation.  And when you had beaten the hearthrugs—­what then?”

Mollison smiled his weak smile again.

“Well, sir, I looked at that there stick and I see it was something uncommon,” he answered.  “And I thinks—­’Well, this Mr. Anderson, he’s got a bundle of sticks and walking canes up there—­hell never miss this old thing,’ I thinks.  And so I left it in a corner when I’d done beating the rugs, and when I went away with my things I took it with me.”

“You took it with you?” said Spargo.  “Just so.  To keep as a curiosity, I suppose?”

Mollison’s weak smile turned to one of cunning.  He was obviously losing his nervousness; the sound of his own voice and the reception of his news was imparting confidence to him.

“Not half!” he answered.  “You see, guv’nor, there was an old cove as I knew in the Temple there as is, or was, ’cause I ain’t been there since, a collector of antikities, like, and I’d sold him a queer old thing, time and again.  And, of course, I had him in my eye when I took the stick away—­see?”

“I see.  And you took the stick to him?”

“I took it there and then,” replied Mollison.  “Pitched him a tale, I did, about it having been brought from foreign parts by Uncle Simon—­which I never had no Uncle Simon.  Made out it was a rare curiosity—­which it might ha’ been one, for all I know.”

“Exactly.  And the old cove took a fancy to it, eh?”

“Bought it there and then,” answered Mollison, with something very like a wink.

“Ah!  Bought it there and then.  And how much did he give you for it?” asked Spargo.  “Something handsome, I hope?”

“Couple o’ quid,” replied Mollison.  “Me not wishing to part with a family heirloom for less.”