Deputy O'Connor on the wire. Briefly he explained
the case, and arranged for the necessary arrests that would bring the
principal actors in the little drama to the laboratory that night. Then
he fell to work on a little delicate electrical instrument consisting,
outwardly at least, of a dial with a pointer and several little carbon
handles attached to wires, as well as a switchboard.

I know that Kennedy did not relish having his hand forced in this
manner, but nevertheless he was equal to the emergency and when, after
dinner, those whom O'Connor had rounded up began to appear at the
laboratory, no one would ever have imagined that he had not the entire
case on the very tip of his tongue, almost bursting forth an accusation.

De Guerre had complied with the police order by sending Cecilie alone in
a cab, and later he drove up with Miss Hoffman. Dr. Preston came in
shortly afterward, shooting a keen glance at Cecilie, and avoiding more
than a nod to De Guerre. Margot himself was the last to arrive,
protesting volubly. Wade, of course, was already there.

"I really must beg your pardon," began Kennedy, as he ignored the
querulousness of Margot, the late arrival, adding significantly, "that
is, of all of you except one, for monopolizing the evening."

Whatever might have been in their minds to say, no one ventured a word.
Kennedy's tone when he said, "Of all of you except one," was too tense
and serious. It demanded attention, and he got it.

"I am going to put to you first a hypothetical case," he continued
quietly. "Let us say that the De Guerres of Antwerp decided to smuggle a
great jewel into America for safe keeping, perhaps for sale, during the
troublous times in their own country.

"Now, any man would know," he went on, "that he had a pretty slim chance
when it came to smuggling in a diamond. Besides, everyone knew that the
De Guerres owned this particular stone, of which I shall speak later.
But a woman? Smuggling is second nature to some women."

Quickly he ran over the strange facts that had been unearthed regarding
the death of the dainty Russian dancer.

"You were right, Monsieur De Guerre," he concluded, turning
to the diamond merchant; "it was no suicide. Your wife was
killed--unintentionally, it is true,--but killed in an attempt to steal
a great diamond from her while she was smuggling it."

De Guerre made no answer, save a hasty glance at Wade that did not carry
with it an admission of smuggling.