yke was not going to say what he thought. He was wondering if
Fullaway knew what he knew--that Mrs. Marlow was also Miss Slade, that
she had some relations with a man who also bore two different names, that
her actions were somewhat suspicious. But that was not the time to say
all this--he said something non-committal instead.

"There seems to be no doubt that the knowledge that my cousin was
carrying the jewels leaked out here--and from Fullaway's office,"
he answered.

"Through this fellow Ebers!" broke in Fullaway excitedly. "It's all rot
to think that Mrs. Marlow had anything to do with it! Great Scott!--do
any of you mean to suggest that she engineered several murders, and--"

Delkin laughed--a soft, cynical laugh.

"You're lumping a lot of big stuff altogether, Fullaway," he remarked
drily. "Do you know what I think of all this business? I think that
everybody's jumping at conclusions. There are lots of questions,
problems, difficulties that want solving and answering before I come to
any conclusion. I'll tell you what they are," he went on bending forward
in his lounge chair and looking from one to the other of the faces around
him and beginning to tick off his points on the tips of his fingers.
"Listen! One--Was James Allerdyke really murdered, or did he die a
natural death? Two--Had James Allerdyke those jewels in his possession
when he entered that S---- Hotel at Hull! Three--Has the robbery, or
disappearance, of the Princess Nastirsevitch's jewels anything whatever
to do with the theft of Mademoiselle de Longarde's property? Four--Was
that man Lydenberg shot in Hull as a result of some connection with
either, or both, of these affairs, or was he murdered for private or
political reasons? Let me get a clear understanding of everything that's
behind all these problems," he concluded, with a knowing smile, "and I'll
tell you something!"

"You think it possible that the Nastirsevitch affair is the work of one
lot, and the Lennard affair the work of another?" asked Allerdyke,
thoughtfully. "In that case, I'll ask you a question, Mr. Delkin. How do
you account for the fact that my cousin James, the Frenchwoman, Lisette
Beaurepaire, and his valet, Ebers, or Federman, or Herman, were all found
dead under similar circumstances? Come, now!"

"Aye, but were they?" demanded Delkin, clapping his hands together with a
smile of triumphantly suggestive doubt. "Were they? You don't know--and
the expert analysts don't kn