It was in Barebone's pocket.
Colville put together with the toe of his boot the logs which were smouldering in a glow of incandescent heat.

He turned and glanced over his shoulder toward his companion.
Barebone was taking the locket from his waistcoat pocket and approaching the table where the candles burnt low in their sockets.
"You never really supposed you were the man, did you ?" asked Colville, with a ready smile.

He was brave, at all events, for he took the only course left to him with a sublime assurance.
Barebone looked across the candles at the face which smiled, and smiled.
"That is what I thought," he answered, with a queer laugh.
"Do not jump to any hasty decisions," urged Colville instantly, as if warned by the laugh.
"No! I want to sift the matter carefully to the bottom.

It will be interesting to learn who are the deceived and who the deceivers." Barebone had had time to think out a course of action.

His face seemed to puzzle Colville, who was rarely at fault in such judgments of character as came within his understanding.