ey continued to hold out, he pointed to the broken
cup and saucer, muttering:

"That is what startled me into this betrayal--the noise of breaking
china. I can not bear it since--"

He stopped, bit his lip and looked around him with an air of sudden
bravado.

"Since you dropped the cups at your wife's feet in Mr. Ramsdell's
alcove," finished Mr. Grey with admirable self-possession.

"I see that explanations from myself are not in order," was the grim
retort, launched with the bitterest sarcasm. Then as the full weight of
his position crushed in on him, his face assumed an aspect startling to
my unaccustomed eyes, and, thrusting his hand into his pocket he drew
forth a small box which he placed in Mr. Grey's hands.

"The Great Mogul," he declared simply.

It was the first time I had heard this diamond so named.

Without a word that gentleman opened the box, took one look at the
contents, assumed a satisfied air, and carefully deposited the recovered
gem in his own pocket. As his eyes returned to the man before him, all
the passion of the latter burst forth.

"It was not for that I killed her!" cried he. "It was because she defied
me and flaunted her disobedience in my very face. I would do it again,
yet--"

Here his voice broke and it was in a different tone and with a total
change of manner he added: "You stand appalled at my depravity. You have
not lived my life." Then quickly and with a touch of sullenness: "You
suspected me because of the stiletto. It was a mistake, using that
stiletto. Otherwise, the plan was good. I doubt if you know now how I
found my way into the alcove, possibly under your very eyes; certainly,
under the eyes of many who knew me."

"I do not. It is enough that you entered it; that you confess your
guilt."

Here Mr. Grey stretched his hand toward the electric button.

"No, it is not enough." The tone was fierce, authoritative. "Do not ring
the bell, not yet. I have a fancy to tell you how I managed that little
affair."

Glancing about, he caught up from a near-by table a small brass tray.
Emptying it of its contents, he turned on us with drawn-down features
and an obsequious air so opposed to his natural manner that it was as if
another man stood before us.

"Pardon my black tie," he muttered, holding out the tray toward Mr.
Grey.

Wellgood!

The room turned with me. It was he, then, the great financier, the
multimillionaire, the husband of the magnificent Grizel, who had en