“The day following, which was Friday,” he continued, “I was duly presented to the woman in question. She did not remember me, or if she did, succeeded in concealing the fact from me, as well as from others. Some years have passed since I saw her, and at that time she was—well, she was associated with the notorious character whose name has been mentioned by Detective Carter to-night; with the notorious Bare-Faced Jimmy Duryea, who is now dead, although Mr. Carter seems not to know that fact. I will say one word more about that man, although it pains me to do so. He was a burglar, a thief, everything that was bad and low, but he was my cousin, and his real name was the same as mine. Moreover, there was a personal resemblance between us. I can tell more about him when the proper time comes.” Again he came to a pause, and found this during it to glance exultingly around toward the detective. Then he continued: “That day, Friday, it became known that certain jewels had been stolen from this house. I was instantly convinced that the woman had stolen them; also that she had taken them after the hour when she met the man in the library, because there had not been time, or opportunity, then. But I said nothing to anybody, until to-day, on the lawn, when, in a conversation that happened after the arrival of the detective, I ventured the opinion that the thief was a woman. But I determined to keep careful watch to-night. “Now I am coming down to the explanation of present circumstances. I went to my room, determined to keep watch; but I half undressed, and I was sleepy. I fell asleep in my big chair. I was aroused from that sleep by the clanging of the burglar alarm, which I advised Mr. Remsen to have fixed, and which was done yesterday. I rushed into the hall, and down the stairs. I saw that same woman to whom I have referred passing rapidly through the lower hall, and directly behind her was Nick Carter, evidently in pursuit. But as I looked the detective tripped over something, and fell. The woman ran out at the rear door, which had been opened for her escape, and which act set off the alarm, thus enabling me to discover her. “She sprang into a motor car. She wore a red wrapper and an automobile veil; but I recognized her, nevertheless. Nick Carter thinks it was a man in disguise, or he says he does. But I know it was a woman, and that woman stands—_there_!” He wheeled and pointed an accusing finger at Nan Nightingale, who shrank away from him as from a loathsome thing. “Deny it if you can Nan Nightingale, alias Nan Drummond, and alias many other names!” he cried out. “And you, Nick Carter, deny if you can that you knew this woman when she was Nan Drummond, a thief, and the wife of Bare-Faced Jimmy Duryea, the crook.” It was a clever statement, cleverly devised, cleverly delivered. It had all the effect that Jimmy anticipated.