back in the box."

"Do you know anything, McDonald?"

"I do not, sir."

"Do you, Pemberton?"

"No, sir."

"Do you, Morton?"

Digby stammered and hesitated. The Doctor repeated his question.

"I know nothing for certain, sir. But I--I think--" and he held to the
back of a chair with a very determined clutch as he again hesitated,
and began to speak.

"What do you think, man? Speak out," said the Doctor.

"I think I ought to mention a circumstance, but I shall prefer speaking
to you alone."

"Does it relate to any one present?"

"It does."

"Then I must have it told here. But let me first continue my question
to each one present."

The question went round, and the answer in each case was in the
negative.

"Now, Morton, I must ask you to state what you know of this matter, or
rather what you suspect, and I leave it to your good sense to say only
that which you think it absolutely necessary for me to know."

There was a dead silence. Every eye was turned toward Digby with
intense interest, while he fixed his gaze steadily upon the floor.

"I saw Howard Pemberton putting the miniature in his breast coat-pocket
last evening, sir, when we were in your drawing-room. I said to him,
'I've caught you, have I.' He made no reply to me, but turned away,
very red in the face--"

"It is false--wickedly false," cried Howard, in a passionate burst of
feeling.

"He states it is false," continued Digby, "but I will appeal to Fraser
or McDonald, who saw it, or better still, to Martin Venables, who also
saw it, and made some remark in apology for him!"

"Do you know of anything else, directly or indirectly, that you think
should come to my knowledge?" asked the Doctor.

"Nothing more, sir, except that Pemberton, whose room adjoins mine,
seemed to have something on his mind last night, for he was walking
about in his room in the middle of the night, and I fancied he got out
of the window. This is all I have to say, sir. I said I knew nothing
for certain, and I hope I have not done wrong in telling you this
much."

And now all eyes turned to Howard Pemberton. He stood speechless. He
felt as in a horrible nightmare, and could neither move body nor mind
to break the spell. If he could have known that there was not one in
the room who believed him to be guilty, he would have easily recovered
from the blow; but with his peculiarly nervous temperament, although
conscious of perfect innocence in the matter, he felt tha