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“Excuse me, Miss Smith,” I boldly exclaimed; then paused, for she had turned instinctively and I had seen that for which I had risked this daring move. “Your pardon,” I hastily apologized. “I mistook you for another young lady,” and drew back with a low bow to let her pass, for I saw that she thought only of escaping both me and the room.

And I did not wonder at this, for her eyes were streaming with tears, and her face, which was doubtless a pretty one under ordinary conditions, looked so distorted with distracting emotions that she was no fit subject for any man’s eye, let alone that of a hard-hearted officer of the law on the look-out for the guilty hand which had just appropriated a jewel worth anywhere from eight to ten thousand dollars.

Yet I was glad to see her weep, for only first offenders weep, and first offenders are amenable to influence, especially if they have been led into wrong by impulse and are weak rather than wicked.

Anxious to make no blunder, I resolved, before proceeding further, to learn what I could of the character and antecedents of the suspected one, and this from the only source which offered–Mr. Deane’s affianced.

This young lady was a delicate girl, with a face like a flower. Recognizing her sensitive nature, I approached her with the utmost gentleness. Not seeking to disguise either the nature of my business or my reasons for being in the house, since all this gave me authority, I modulated my tone to suit her gentle spirit, and, above all, I showed the utmost sympathy for her lover, whose rights in the reward had been taken from him as certainly as the jewel had been taken from Mrs. Burton. In this way I gained her confidence, and she was quite ready to listen when I observed:

“There is a young lady here who seems to be in a state of even greater trouble than Mr. Deane. Why is this? You brought her here. Is her sympathy with Mr. Deane so great as to cause her to weep over his loss?”

“Frances? Oh, no. She likes Mr. Deane and she likes me, but not well enough to cry over our misfortunes. I think she has some trouble of her own.”

“One that you can tell me?”

Her surprise was manifest.

“Why do you ask that? What interest have you (called in, as I understand, to recover a stolen jewel) in Frances Glover’s personal difficulties?”

I saw that I must make my position perfectly plain.

“Only this. She was seen to pick up something from the driveway, where no one else had succeeded in finding anything.”

“She? When? Who saw her?”

“I can not answer all these questions at once,” I smiled. “She was seen to do this–no matter by whom,–during your passage from the carriage to the stoop. As you preceded her, you naturally did not observe this action, which was fortunate, perhaps, as you would scarcely have known what to do or say about it.”

“Yes I should,” she retorted, with a most unexpected display of spirit. “I should have asked her what she had found and I should have insisted upon an answer. I love my friends, but I love the man I am to marry, better.” Here her voice fell and a most becoming blush suffused her cheek.

“Quite right,” I assented. “Now will you answer my former question? What troubles Miss Glover? Can you tell me?”

“That I can not. I only know that she has been very silent ever since she left the house. I thought her beautiful new dress would please her, but it does not seem to. She has been unhappy and preoccupied all the evening. She only roused a bit when Mr. Deane showed us the ruby and said–Oh, I forgot!”

“What’s that? What have you forgot?”

“What you said just now. I wouldn’t add a word–“

“Pardon me!” I smilingly interrupted, looking as fatherly as I could, “but you have added this word and now you must tell me what it means. You were going to say she showed interest in the extraordinary jewel which Mr. Deane took from his pocket and–“