ward to the floor. There was a ghastly silence.

It was Guest who was the first to speak, standing straight and stern at
the opposite side of the table, and at the sound of his opening words
the wretched woman trembled violently, and sank on a chair for support.

"Mrs Schuter! I have come here with Miss Briskett to ask your
explanation of a letter sent in her name to Mr Marchant, the jeweller,
this morning. She has seen the letter, with the forged signature at the
end, and has heard that the necklace was brought to this hotel, and
delivered to you. May I trouble you to hand it over?"

Each word was sharp and cutting as an icicle, and Guest's steel-like
eyes were alight with remorseless anger. Cornelia turned her head
aside, unable to endure the pitiful spectacle. Mrs Moffatt stammered
out a broken subterfuge.

"What necklace? I don't know--I don't--understand!"

Even as she spoke, one trembling hand twitched upward, to be as quickly
lowered, but not before Guest had pounced upon the clue with swift
intuition.

"You understand very well! As a matter of fact, you are wearing it at
this moment beneath your dress. Will you kindly take it off, and put it
on the table?"

He turned aside as he spoke, paying this small tribute to her womanly
feelings. A strangled sob broke the silence; the sound of laboured
breathing, then a faint, clicking sound, and he looked round to see a
dazzle of light on a corner of the table, where the sunbeams had found a
plaything. A bauble of green and white stones, for which a woman had
sold her soul.

Cornelia was leaning against the mantelpiece, her face hidden in her
hands. Guest realised that it was her sob which he had heard, and the
knowledge did not soften his heart.

"Thank you!" he said in the same tone of cutting politeness. "That is
so much to the good, but I shall have to trouble you still further.
There was two hundred pounds lent to you yesterday, ostensibly to be
paid to a furrier, that, of course, was a mere excuse!--and thirty
pounds in bank-notes this morning. I fear the first sum is gone beyond
recall, since your husband's cheque is probably not worth the paper on
which it is written, but I take it that the notes are still intact. As
you prefer someone else to pay your bills, you will have kept them for
personal use. They are probably in your pocket at this moment!"

"I have not got the cheque--I could not return it if I would," said Mrs
Moffatt, hoarse