ight of the dinner and stole the
porte-monnaie from the fur coat while she went up-stairs and took the
amethysts from Mr. Holmes's room. She wasn't afraid. If any one came
all she had to do was to say she had returned for something she had
lost when accompanying Miss Forrest. 'Twas he who told her to take some
of McLean's handkerchiefs and drop one in Mr. Holmes's room where he
would be sure to get it, "'cause Dr. Bayard wanted to get rid of Mr.
McLean and would believe nothing against Miss Forrest;" 'twas he who
tried to pick that latch again and get in and steal the doctor's
silver, but was interrupted by Miss Forrest's coming, and had just time
to slink away on tiptoe around the corner of the house; 'twas he who
gave her keys to open Miss Forrest's trunk and showed her how to pick
the lock of the little box that held her diamonds, and he who bade her
lose one of McLean's handkerchiefs behind the trunk. Oh, yes! She was
ready to swear fire, murder, and treason against him--her scoundrelly
deceiver. In one short day this precious pair had succeeded in saddling
each other with the iniquities of the garrison for a month back, and
all other suspicions were at an end.

But there was still another feather in Mr. Holmes's cap. He had known
these Denver detectives for years and had placed much valuable business
in their hands. He had munificently rewarded every man who had been
efficient in the present chase and capture; had had the pleasure of
restoring to Miss Forrest in a new case and well-repaired setting the
diamonds of which she had been despoiled, and then he sought McLean.

"Did you ever get a little card I left in your drawer one night while I
was here with Mr. Hatton?" he asked.

McLean looked up in eager interest. "A card?--yes, but never dreamed it
was from you. Indeed I thought--I was told--it came from an entirely
different source, and it has puzzled me more than words can tell you."

"It was perhaps a piece of officiousness on my part, but we were in a
peculiar state just then with all these thefts going on. I stowed it in
one of your handkerchiefs while Hatton was out. What did you do with
it!"

"Burned it--long ago. I couldn't understand at all. It said that one
who had been as hard pressed as I was--pecuniarily, I supposed--wanted
to be my friend, and----"

"Yes, that's about it! I suppose you couldn't see your way clear to
accepting help from me----"

"I didn't know it was your card or your writing.