"So when the treasure came in your way you could not resist the temptation of purchase. Now, pray be careful. Did you not buy the Cardinal Moth about an hour or two, say, after the unknown was found murdered in that conservatory at Streatham?" Frobisher wiped his shining head; his hand was shaking slightly. "If you put it that way, I did," he said. "It was brought to me and offered for sale that night and I bought it." "What did you give for it?" Frobisher gaped open-mouthed at the question. It came back to him with sudden force that he had not given anything for the Moth at all, he had only promised for Lopez’s sake to tell a lie and stick to it. Counsel rapped sharply on the table before him. "I asked you what you gave for the Cardinal Moth?" he exclaimed. "A trifle," Frobisher admitted. "Well, nothing in money at all. You see, the man who sold it to me——" "Can you see the man in court? Look round and let us know if he is here." Frobisher slowly looked round the court, not so much to find Lopez as to regain his own scattered wits. *CHAPTER XXVI.* *A BAD QUARTER OF AN HOUR.* Frobisher passed a handkerchief over his shining head slowly, with a feeling that he was going through the ordeal of a Turkish bath. It was a long time before he was quite sure that the vendor of the Cardinal Moth was not in court. The little questioner smiled as Frobisher shook his head. Evidently he had a powerful reserve behind him. He switched off on to another track presently. "You know all about the history of the Cardinal Moth?" he asked. "Every collector does," Frobisher replied. "It has been known for centuries. Times out of number adventurers have tried to obtain the whole plant, or, at any rate, a small portion of it, but without success. Generally the attempt has ended in disaster to the adventurers." "You mean that usually they have been killed?" "Precisely. They have died of strangulation as—as Mr. Manfred did." "Quite so. You don’t suggest that there is anything Satanic or diabolical about the Moth? No cruel force from an unseen world, or anything of that kind?" "Certainly not," Frobisher said with the suspicion of a sneer. "Although such a thing is firmly believed in Koordstan and elsewhere." "Then there is some trick, some danger. Now, Sir Clement, listen to me carefully. You knew all about this strange fatality that clings to the Cardinal Moth, you know that Mr. Manfred met his death by that terrible way, and that tragedy at Streatham was more or less a repetition of the thing that happened under your roof. You can’t deny that." "Have I made any attempt to do so?" Frobisher retorted. "I didn’t suggest anything of the kind," Counsel snapped. "But I do say that you suppressed, deliberately suppressed, what you knew to be facts of the deepest import. Why did you not tell all this to the police? Why didn’t you mention it to Sir James Brownsmith and other friends?"