uth from me. I don't believe in your
theory; I can't. I have not been able to from the first, nor have any
of my men; but if your ideas are true and Mr. Grey is involved in this
matter, you will find that there has been more of a hitch about that
diamond than you, in your simplicity, believe. If Mr. Grey were in
actual possession of this valuable, he would show less care than you say
he does. So would he if it were in Wellgood's hands with his consent and
a good prospect of its coming to him in the near future. But if it is
in Wellgood's hands without his consent, or any near prospect of his
regaining it, then we can easily understand his present apprehensions
and the growing uneasiness he betrays."
"True," I murmured.
"If, then," the inspector pursued, giving me a parting glance not
without its humor, probably not without something really serious
underlying its humor, "we should find, in following up our present clue,
that Mr. Grey has had dealings with this Wellgood or this Sears; or if
you, with your advantages for learning the fact, should discover that he
shows any extraordinary interest in either of them, the matter will take
on a different aspect. But we have not got that far yet. At present our
task is to find one or the other of these men. If we are lucky, we shall
discover that the waiter and the steward are identical, in spite of
their seemingly different appearance. A rogue, such as this Sears has
shown himself to be, would be an adept at disguise."
"You are right," I acknowledged. "He has certainly the heart of a
criminal. If he had no hand in Mrs. Fairbrother's murder, he came near
having one in that of your detective. You know what I mean. I could not
help hearing, Inspector."
He smiled, looked me steadfastly in the face for a moment, and then
bowed me out.
The inspector told me afterward that, in spite of the cavalier manner
with which he had treated my suggestions, he spent a very serious
half-hour, head to head with the district attorney. The result was the
following order to Sweetwater, the detective.
"You are to go to the St. Regis; make yourself solid there, and
gradually, as you can manage it, work yourself into a position for
knowing all that goes on in Room ----. If the gentleman (mind you, the
gentleman; we care nothing about the women) should go out, you are to
follow him if it takes you to--. We want to know his secret; but he must
never know our interest in it and you are to be a
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