"Oh, indeed! And, pray, what is this missing fact?"
"Where the Crown diamond now is."
The Count looked sharply at his companion. "Oh, you want to know that, do you? How the devil should I be able to tell you where it is?"
"You can, and you will."
"Indeed!"
"You can't bluff me, Count Sylvius." Holmes's eyes, as he gazed at him, contracted and lightened until they were like two menacing points of steel. "You are absolute plate-glass. I see to the very back of your mind."
"Then, of course, you see where the diamond is!"
Holmes clapped his hands with amusement, and then pointed a derisive finger. "Then you do know. You have admitted it!"
"I admit nothing."
"Now, Count, if you will be reasonable, we can do business. If not, you will get hurt."
Count Sylvius threw up his eyes to the ceiling. "And you talk about bluff!" said he.
Holmes looked at him thoughtfully, like a master chess-player who meditates his crowning move. Then he threw open the table drawer and drew out a squat notebook.
"Do you know what I keep in this book?"
"No, sir, I do not!"
"You!"
"Me?"
"Yes, sir, you! You are all here—every action of your vile and dangerous life."
"Damn you, Holmes!" cried the Count, with blazing eyes. "There are limits to my patience!"
"It's all here, Count. The real facts as to the death of old Mrs. Harold, who left you the Blymer estate, which you so rapidly gambled away."