So as to have the fragrance with you all the time," he said.

Van Sneck obeyed quietly, remarking that the scent was very pungent. The
Dutchman was restless and ill at ease; he seemed to be dissatisfied with
himself--he had the air of a man who has set out with two or three
extremely important matters of business and who has completely forgotten
what one of them is.

"You needn't distress yourself," David said, kindly.

"I beg your pardon," Bell said, tartly. "He is to do that very same
thing. Mental exercise never hurts anybody. Van Sneck is going to worry
till he puzzles it out. Will you describe the ring to us?"

The Dutchman complied at considerable length. He dwelt on the beauty of
the workmanship and the exceeding fineness of the black pearls; he talked
with the freedom and expression of the expert. Bell permitted him to
ramble on about historic rings in general. But all the same he could see
that Van Sneck was far from easy in his mind. Now and then a sudden gleam
came into his eyes: memory played for the fragment of a second on a
certain elusive chord and was gone.

"Were you smoking the night you came here?" Bell asked, suddenly.

"Yes," Van Sneck replied, "a cigarette. Henson handed it over to me. I
don't deny that I was terribly frightened, I smoked the cigarette out
of bravado."

"You went into the conservatory yonder and admired the flowers,"
Bell observed.

Van Sneck looked up with astonishment and admiration.

"I did," he confessed. "But I don't see how you know that."

"I guessed it. It takes the brain some little time to get level to the
imagination. And as soon as you came face to face with Henson you knew
what was going to happen. You were a little dazed and frightened, and a
little overcome by liquor into the bargain. But even then, though you
were probably unconscious of it yourself, you were seeking some place to
hide the ring."

"I rather believe I was," Van Sneck said, thoughtfully.

"You smoked a cigarette there. Where did you put the end?"

Van Sneck rose and went into the conservatory. He walked directly to a
large pot of stephanotis in a distant corner and picked the stump of a
gold-tipped cigarette from thence.

"I dropped it in there," he said. "Strange; if you had asked me that
question two minutes ago I should not have been able to answer it. And
now I distinctly remember pitching it in there and watching it scorch
some of that beautiful lace-like moss. There is a long tra