e matter to me. My dear young lady, I should very much like to see
those diamonds."

"I regret that I cannot accommodate you," Beatrice said. "In the first
place they are not mine."

"No, but they belong to Stephen Richford, which is much the same thing."

"Again I am sorry to have to disagree with you," Beatrice went on
quietly. "The man who calls himself my husband has ended his career
disgracefully. He has been guilty of fraudulent conduct, and even at the
present moment he may be in the hands of the police."

Beatrice spoke more truly than she had imagined. She was not in the
least frightened, and yet she knew perfectly well that these people
would not stick at trifles.

"My husband came to me to-night," she said. "He came and asked me for
these gems. He wanted to turn them into money to fly with; he desired to
have a luxurious retreat. I might have parted with them but for one
thing--he seemed to have no sorrow for those that he had robbed. So I
declined to part with the diamonds. I am going to keep them and hand
them over to my husband's creditors. I took them from the safe in my
hotel, fearing that there would be complications, but I was wrong, and I
am sorry that I did so."

"And why are you sorry?" Sartoris asked.

"Because the stones were far safer there than they are here," Beatrice
said.

There was no mistaking the girl's insinuation; even Sartoris reddened.

"So you mean to say that you suspect me?" he asked.

"Most certainly I do," Beatrice said boldly. "I have only to look into
your face to see that. You are all three together; there is no honesty
between you. You are not even loyal to each other. And I know who you
are and what part you all played in the removal of my father's body from
the hotel. You who call yourself Sartoris, are the little cripple of the
black hansom cab, you others are the rogues who posed as Countess de la
Moray and General Gastang. And if those diamonds are to become your
property, you must take them by force."

"_Le brave chien_," the woman sneered. "Well, I suppose what must be,
must. Who will do it?"

"Who better than yourself?" Sartoris asked. "I had rather not lay hands
on a woman, but----"

"There is no necessity. The painful thing is not going to be done at
all. It is well that I am here to shield your consciences from such an
outrage."

The door had opened so suddenly that the man Reggie was almost carried
off his feet, and Berrington stood in the room. B