y reason without unraveling a long web, and
it is not time to begin the process; I am still in the realm of
conjecture. So you won't help me to the result of Mr. Belknap's
investigation, Miss Wardour? I am sorry; it would save time for me, for
I fully intend to find it out in some way."

Constance smiled in spite of herself; she admired this man's cool way of
mastering the situation; she felt that it would be policy to let him
have his way, since he would take it whether she would or no. But the
imp of caprice had not quite deserted her, and now he goaded her on to
her own downfall. Looking up suddenly, she asked:

"Mr. Bathurst, why did you ask me if I suspected who stole my diamonds?"

"I didn't," smiling oddly.

Constance stared.

"I asked if you guessed who the robbers were."

"But--," began she; but the detective drawing a step nearer, and
speaking in a guarded tone, interrupts her.

"I am satisfied that you were _robbed_ on Saturday night, Miss Wardour;
I am sure that you have no clue to the burglars; no suspicion as to
their identity; but, I am not so sure that you do not know _precisely
where to look for the Wardour diamonds at this moment_?"

Constance flushed, and then turned pale. She had found her match; she
was cornered, mastered, but she must give one last scratch.

"Having divined so much," she said bitterly. "I suppose you intend to
find them too?"

He drew himself up haughtily. "I am a detective, madam, not a spy; so
long as your diamonds give _you_ no uneasiness they have no interest for
me. When you need my services they are yours. I do not investigate
mysteries from mere curiosity."

Constance felt a twinge of self-reproach. "I am behaving like a fool,"
she thought, in severe condemnation. "I am losing my own identity; this
man is a friend to rely on, an enemy to fear. He will not bow to my
whims and caprices. What has come over me? Let me try and redeem
myself."

She had been musing with downcast eyes; now she looked up, straight into
her companion's face. It had undergone a sudden change; the eyes, a
moment since so full of fire and subtlety, were dull and expressionless.
The face was vague to apathy, the mouth looked the incarnation of
meekness or imbecility; even his hands had taken on a helpless
feebleness in the clutch in which he held his worn-out hat. Before she
could withdraw her gaze or open her lips in speech, he said in a low
guarded tone:

"Some one is approaching. Look