corner near the window--where
my Indian cabinet stands."

"When I was at the cabinet, my back must have been turned towards you.
How did you see what I was doing?"

"When you moved, I moved."

"So as to see what I was about with my hands?"

"There are three glasses in my sitting-room. As you stood there, I saw
all that you did, reflected in one of them."

"What did you see?"

"You put your candle on the top of the cabinet. You opened, and shut,
one drawer after another, until you came to the drawer in which I had
put my Diamond. You looked at the open drawer for a moment. And then you
put your hand in, and took the Diamond out."

"How do you know I took the Diamond out?"

"I saw your hand go into the drawer. And I saw the gleam of the stone
between your finger and thumb, when you took your hand out."

"Did my hand approach the drawer again--to close it, for instance?"

"No. You had the Diamond in your right hand; and you took the candle
from the top of the cabinet with your left hand."

"Did I look about me again, after that?"

"No."

"Did I leave the room immediately?"

"No. You stood quite still, for what seemed a long time. I saw your face
sideways in the glass. You looked like a man thinking, and dissatisfied
with his own thoughts."

"What happened next?"

"You roused yourself on a sudden, and you went straight out of the
room."

"Did I close the door after me?"

"No. You passed out quickly into the passage, and left the door open."

"And then?"

"Then, your light disappeared, and the sound of your steps died away,
and I was left alone in the dark."

"Did nothing happen--from that time, to the time when the whole house
knew that the Diamond was lost?"

"Nothing."

"Are you sure of that? Might you not have been asleep a part of the
time?"

"I never slept. I never went back to my bed. Nothing happened until
Penelope came in, at the usual time in the morning."

I dropped her hand, and rose, and took a turn in the room. Every
question that I could put had been answered. Every detail that I could
desire to know had been placed before me. I had even reverted to the
idea of sleep-walking, and the idea of intoxication; and, again, the
worthlessness of the one theory and the other had been proved--on the
authority, this time, of the witness who had seen me. What was to be
said next? what was to be done next? There rose the horrible fact of the
Theft--the one visible, tangible object that co