mean a thing as the theft of a handful of
pearls--she was fairly stunned.

"Then," I said, to bring Wardrop back to his story, "you found you had
been robbed of the money, and you went in to tell Mr. Fleming. You had
some words, didn't you?"

"He thought what you all thought," Wardrop said bitterly. "He accused me
of stealing the money. I felt worse than a thief. He was desperate, and
I took his revolver from him."

Margery had put her hands over her eyes. It was a terrible strain for
her, but when I suggested that she wait for the rest of the story she
refused vehemently.

"I came back here to Bellwood, and the first thing I learned was about
Miss Jane. When I saw the blood print on the stair rail, I thought she
was murdered, and I had more than I could stand. I took the letters out
of the secret closet, before I could show it to you and Hunter, and
later I put them in the leather bag I gave you, and locked it. You have
it, haven't you, Knox?"

I nodded.

"As for that night at the club, I told the truth then, but not all the
truth. I suppose I am a coward, but I was afraid to. If you knew
Schwartz, you would understand."

With the memory of his huge figure and the heavy under-shot face that I
had seen the night before, I could understand very well, knowing
Wardrop.

"I went to that room at the White Cat that night, because I was afraid
not to go. Fleming might kill himself or some one else. I went up the
stairs, slowly, and I heard no shot. At the door I hesitated, then
opened it quietly. The door into the built-in staircase was just
closing. It must have taken me only an instant to realize what had
happened. Fleming was swaying forward as I caught him. I jumped to the
staircase and looked down, but I was too late. The door below had
closed. I knew in another minute who had been there, and escaped. It was
raining, you remember, and Schwartz had forgotten to take his umbrella
with his name on the handle!"

"Schwartz!"

"Now do you understand why I was being followed?" he demanded. "I have
been under surveillance every minute since that night. There's probably
some one hanging around the gate now. Anyhow, I was frantic. I saw how
it looked for me, and if I had brought Schwartz into it, I would have
been knifed in forty-eight hours. I hardly remember what I did. I know I
ran for a doctor, and I took the umbrella with me and left it in the
vestibule of the first house I saw with a doctor's sign. I rang the be