“For it’s important he should have no suspicion whatever of what I propose that you should do, Hazlewood,” Pettifer said gravely.  “I propose that we should take a lesson from the legal processes of another country.  It may work, it may not, but to my mind it is our only chance.”

“Let me hear!” said Hazlewood.

“Thresk is an authority on old silver and miniatures.  He has a valuable collection himself.  His advice is sought by people in the trade.  You know what collectors are.  Get him down to see your collection.  It wouldn’t be the first time that you have invited a stranger to pass a night in your house for that purpose, would it?”

“No.”

“And the invitation has often been accepted?”

“Well—­sometimes.”

“We must hope that it will be this time.  Get Thresk down to Little
Beeding upon that excuse.  Then confront him unexpectedly with Mrs.
Ballantyne.  And let me be there.”

Such was the plan which Pettifer suggested.  A period of silence followed upon his words.  Even Mr. Hazlewood, in the extremity of his distress, recoiled from it.

“It would look like a trap.”

Mr. Pettifer thumped his table impatiently.

“Let’s be frank, for Heaven’s sake.  It wouldn’t merely look like a trap, it would be one.  It wouldn’t be at all a pretty thing to do, but there’s this marriage!”

“No, I couldn’t do it,” said Hazlewood.

“Very well.  There’s no more to be said.”

Pettifer himself had no liking for the plan.  It had been his intention originally to let Hazlewood know that if he wished to get into communication with Thresk there was a means by which he could do it.  But the fact of Dick’s engagement had carried him still further, and now that he had read the evidence of the trial carefully there was a real anxiety in his mind.  Pettifer sealed up the cuttings in a fresh envelope and gave them to Hazlewood and went out with him to the door.

“Of course,” said the old man, “if your legal experience, Robert, leads you to think that we should be justified—­”

“But it doesn’t,” Pettifer was quick to interpose.  He recognised his brother-in-law’s intention to throw the discredit of the trick upon his shoulders but he would have none of it.  “No, Hazlewood,” he said cheerfully:  “it’s not a plan which a high-class lawyer would be likely to commend to a client.”

“Then I am afraid that I couldn’t do it.”

“All right,” said Pettifer with his hand upon the latch of the front door.  “Thresk’s chambers are in King’s Bench Walk.”  He added the number.

“I simply couldn’t think of it,” Hazlewood repeated as he crossed the pavement to his car.

“Perhaps not,” said Pettifer.  “You have the envelope?  Yes.  Choose an evening towards the end of the week, a Friday will be your best chance of getting him.”

“I will do nothing of the kind, Pettifer.”