"I might as well tell it. As you say, I knew the jewel-box--and I
honestly thought it contained the ruby--and the Clara Cooper letters
were in the safe, and I never had an opportunity to take them till
Tuesday night a week ago. The assurance that Page was going to Duluth
that night, combined with the backing Tshen would give me, put me in a
position where I could take the ruby and defy Page. I was so sure that
Page was going to Duluth that night that I arranged a meeting between
Fluette and the Burman at Page's house.

"For you surmised correctly when you declared that Fluette would not
buy the ruby on the strength of my representations alone. The purpose
of that meeting was to convince Fluette of the good faith of Tshen's
claim to the stone, whereupon I was to procure it from the safe--the
letters, too--and he was to pay over a certain sum of money for them."

"How much?" I bluntly demanded.

"Two hundred thousand dollars."

So this was the reason why Alfred Fluette must needs help himself to
Genevieve's patrimony. That rapacious monster, the Wheat Pit, had
exhausted all of his legitimate resources, and so mad was his obsession
that he scrupled not to steal.

I entertained only hard feelings for him at that moment. He had not
bought the ruby, however, and doubtless Genevieve's fortune was still
intact.

"Go on," I commanded curtly. "What happened then?"

"Well, Maillot's arrival demoralized everything. Fluette was to come
at ten o'clock, and Tshen at ten-thirty. I did n't know what to do. I
had no way of getting them word at that time of night, and I soon
realized that Page had given over the trip. I contrived, however, to
smuggle all of them up to my room, without anybody being the wiser.

"I explained the state of affairs, and assured them that I would fulfil
my part of the agreement as soon as Page and Maillot retired and the
house grew quiet.

"Some time after eleven I heard Page and Maillot coming up-stairs. The
light was out in my room, and, peering through the crack of my door, I
watched Page bid Maillot good-night. The old man was holding a lighted
candle in one hand and the small leather box in the other. I _know_ it
was the ruby he showed Maillot--"

"I suppose you were in the curtained alcove while he and Maillot were
talking," I interrupted.

"Not all the time; I didn't dare be. The old man was as sharp as a
fox. He didn't trust anybody.

"However, I carried out my part of the