For the moment, Molly was forgotten. The old reckless spirit was carrying him away. This thing was a deliberate challenge. He had been on parole. He had imagined that his word was all that McEachern had to rely on. But if the policeman had been working secretly against him all this time, his parole was withdrawn automatically. The thought that, if he did nothing, McEachern would put it down complacently to the vigilance of his detective and his own astuteness in engaging him stung Jimmy. His six years of burglary had given him an odd sort of professional pride. "I've half a mind," he said softly. The familiar expression on his face was not lost on Spike. "To try for de jools, Mr. Chames?" he asked eagerly. His words broke the spell. Molly resumed her place. The hard look died out of Jimmy's eyes. "No," he said. "Not that. It can't be done." "Yes, it could, Mr. Chames. Dead easy. I've been up to de room, and I've seen de box what de jools is put in at night. We could get at them easy as pullin' de plug out of a bottle. Say, dis is de softest proposition, dis house. Look what I got dis afternoon, Mr. Chames." He plunged his hand into his pocket, and drew it out again. As he unclosed his fingers, Jimmy caught the gleam of precious stones. He started as one who sees snakes in the grass. "What the----" he gasped. Spike was looking at his treasure-trove with an air of affectionate proprietorship. "Where on earth did you get those?" asked Jimmy. "Out of one of de rooms. Dey belonged to one of de loidies. It was de easiest old t'ing ever, Mr. Chames. I went in when dere was nobody about, and dere dey were on de toible. I never butted into anyt'ing so soft, Mr. Chames." "Spike." "Yes, Mr. Chames?" "Do you remember the room you took them from?" "Sure. It was de foist on de----" "Then just listen to me for a moment. When we're at dinner, you've got to go to that room and put those things back--all of them, mind you--just where you found them. Do you understand?" Spike's jaw had fallen. "Put dem back, Mr. Chames!" he faltered. "Every single one of them." "Mr. Chames!" said Spike plaintively. "You'll bear it in mind? Directly dinner has begun, every one of those things goes back where it belongs. See?" "Very well, Mr. Chames." The dejection in his voice would have moved the sternest to pity. Gloom had enveloped Spike's spirit. The sunlight had gone out of his life. CHAPTER XIV. Spennie Blunt, meanwhile, was not feeling happy. Out of his life, too, had the sunshine gone. His assets amounted to one pound seven and fourpence and he owed twenty pounds. He had succeeded, after dinner, in borrowing five pounds from Jimmy, who was in the mood when he would have lent five pounds to anybody who asked for it, but beyond that he had had no successes in the course of a borrowing tour among the inmates of the abbey.