Also he wished to make a drawing of the peacock, so as to have before his eyes an exact representation of the bird. Alan had a fair idea of art, and had at one time amused himself with sketching, but not being particularly successful had abandoned his hobby. However, he possessed sufficient technical skill to draw the bird and color the drawing, so looked out his japanned tin paint-box and took it in his pocket to The Monastery. This was a couple of days before he returned to town, and at the beginning of the New Year. Luckily on this occasion Marie had gone to see a schoolgirl friend at Brighton, so Fuller was glad that she would not be at home to interrupt his interview with Mr. Sorley. She asked too many questions, and having regard to her uncle’s very peculiar position, Alan found a difficulty in answering them. Finally although he intended to show her the sketch of the peacock, he did not desire her to see him preparing it, since that would have given the lie to his assertion that Sorley already possessed such a drawing, and moreover might reveal that the peacock itself had returned to its old home. Therefore Fuller entered the big house feeling thankful that Marie was out of the way for a few hours. Being very much in love with her he had never expected to have such a feeling, and felt rather ashamed of himself in consequence. But as he knew that he was acting straightforwardly under particularly difficult circumstances he cheered up and saluted his host with a smile. Henny Trent with a grin on her Dutch doll face had introduced him into the library, and here Mr. Sorley was writing letters. “How are you, Alan,” he said, rising to greet his visitor, and looking as spick and span as though he had just stepped out of a bandbox. “I thought you had returned to your duties in Chancery Lane?” “I go back the day after to-morrow,” replied the solicitor, shaking hands, and wondering if he was doing so with a man who ought to be in the New Bailey dock; “I came to say good-bye and to ask you to allow me to make a drawing of the peacock.” “For what reason?” questioned Sorley suspiciously and uneasily. “My reason is very apparent, sir. The riddle is to be read on the exterior of the peacock, you say?” “I think so, since I have opened the bird and found nothing inside it.” “Then I must have a representation of the article before my eyes in order that I may ponder over the signs.” “What signs?” “There you have me,” answered Fuller frankly; “so far as I can see there are no signs of hieroglyphics or writing on the bird, so I don’t see that it can in any way indicate the hiding-place of the Begum’s gems. But if I have a picture and examine everything about it carefully, I may hit on the solution.” “You don’t appear to be very certain of success,” said Mr. Sorley dryly, “yet you told me that you were an adept at solving cryptograms.”