at it
surprised both of us. "But I tell you this, Macartney, and Stretton
too--if any one within a hundred miles of this mine did murder Thompson,
Billy Jones or any one else, it'll come out!" and he jerked his head
around. "Don't you think so, Paulette?"

"I? I never thought of poor old Thompson having been murdered!" She
answered as if she were startled, but she did not turn. "If he was
murdered I pray God it will be found out," she added unexpectedly. She
had made two false starts at her letter and torn them up, but she had
evidently finished it to her liking now, for she sat with the pen poised
over the blank end of the sheet to sign her name. Yet she did not sign
it. She only sat there abstractedly, with her hand lifted from the
wrist.

"There, you see," Dudley crowed triumphantly. "Paulette's no fool: it's
facts she and I are after, Macartney. Why, you take the history of
crimes generally--murders--jewel robberies--kidnapping for money--half
of them with not nearly so much to them as this thing about
Thompson--they're always found out!"

"If you're going to talk this rubbish, I'm going to bed," Marcia burst
out wrathfully. I saw her pause to catch Macartney's eye, but for once
his set gaze was on the floor. She got up, which I don't think she had
meant to do, and flounced out of the room. I had no idea I was going to
be deadly thankful.

Macartney answered Dudley as the door shut behind her. "I don't know
that crimes are always found out, in spite of your faith--and Miss
Paulette's," he argued half crossly. "I could remind you of one or two
that weren't. What about the Mappin murder, way back in nineteen-five?
And that emerald business at the Houstons' country house this spring,
with that dancing and circus-riding girl who used to be at the
Hippodrome--the Russian, who did Russian dancing on her horse's back?
What was her name? I ought to remember. I knew a poor devil of a cousin
of hers out in British Columbia who was engaged to her when it happened,
and he talked about her enough. Oh, yes, Valenka! She had a funny
Christian name too, sort of half Russian, only I forget it. But when
that Valenka girl got away with an emerald necklace from the Houstons'
house no one ever found out how it was done! You must have heard about
her, Stretton?"

I had. Every one had: Macartney need not have troubled to hunt his
memory for her Christian name, though it had only reached me in the
wilderness through a stray New York