a discovery which might be of
vast importance in both our lives. How had Wildred obtained that ring
from Harvey Farnham? Why had he lied about it to Karine? That he was a
villain and a schemer I was sure, though I had had no possible means of
proving it. What if this seemingly small matter should put a clue into
my hands.

So clever a scoundrel should not have committed himself to a lie thus
easily disproved, I thought. Only _necessary_ lies were worth the
risk for a man of acumen such as his. But even the most crafty of
mortals is fallible, I reflected, and liable to make some insignificant
mistake, which, like one stone wrongly placed in the foundation of a
vast building, renders the whole structure unstable. Possibly Wildred
had found a stealthy pleasure in weaving a pretty romance round the ring
which he had chosen as the sign of his betrothal, and in weaving it he
had forgotten that I, as an acquaintance of Farnham's, might have been
conversant with its real history. Or, perhaps, he had not counted upon
the fact that Karine might retell the version he had given her to me.

I know how greatly Farnham had valued the marvellous diamond, in its
quaint setting, and I remembered how, only on the night of our last
meeting, he had reiterated to me his determination to keep it. It was
too small to be removed save by cutting, he had said, and I had
satisfied myself by observation that he had not exaggerated.

He must, then, have gone so far as to have the ring cut from his finger
before sailing for America, that he might leave it as a parting pledge
of friendship with Carson Wildred.

The rich, red gold circlet hung loosely enough, however, on Karine's
slim little finger, and a sudden strong desire that she should allow me
to look at it caught hold of me.

"Would it be asking too much," I said, "to have the wonderful heirloom
in my hand to examine for a moment?"

Without a word she slipped the ring off and gave it to me, almost as
though it was a relief to feel its absence.

In a flash a certain recollection had leaped into my mind. There was an
inscription inside, Harvey Farnham had told me. If the ring had been cut
doubtless the words written within would show some trace of the violent
treatment to which the band of gold had been subjected; and I wished,
for a reason I hardly dared admit to myself, to ascertain if this were
the case.

I moved towards the window and, ostensibly catching the light upon the
facets o