Nan paused a moment, and then turned again to her friend Mrs. Remsen. “That, my dear, is all of my story,” she said. “Much of it you have heard before, for I thank Heaven that before I came into your house to live here as your friend, and to love the stepdaughter who is as dear to you as if she were your own, I told you all of that unhappy past history of mine. I did not come here under false pretenses.” “No, indeed you did not,” cried Mrs. Remsen, putting her arms around Nan. Lenore was quietly sobbing her heart out on Nan’s shoulder, and now Nan, with one backward glance toward all who were in the room, led Lenore through a doorway into an adjoining room, and closed the door behind them. “I have got just a word to say, right here,” said Chick. “Go ahead, Chick,” said the detective. “We are all expecting to hear from you.” “Well, I didn’t remain outside the house all the time things were happening in this room. I went upstairs, and visited the red suite—the rooms that were assigned to Mr. Ledger Dinwiddie.” He paused, stepped to the door, passed out, was gone a moment, and returned. “I found these things in that room,” he said. “They were under the bed, but I found them. There they are. Look at them.” He threw the heap to the floor, and all who were there saw the red wrapper, the big automobile veil, and the ladder of rope up which Jimmy had clambered in order to return to his own room in time to be on the scene. “More than that,” Chick continued, “I have got a full confession from one of the men I captured in the summerhouse, when they attacked Nan. “Nick,” he turned to his chief, “one of those men is the chap who used to live on that island where Jimmy Duryea was supposed to have died. His name is Griggs. Do you remember him?” “Perfectly.” “Well, he can supply the truth that Jimmy Duryea did not die up there. He has already told it to me, and he will tell it again, whenever he is called upon to do so.” Again Chick turned about, facing the assembled guests again. “There is just one more thing to tell you,” he said. “I found a few other things while I was searching that red suite of rooms. I found these.” He thrust a hand into his pocket, and drew it forth filled with jewels. “Here,” he said, “is, I think, all the stolen property. If it is not there, the rest of it will doubtless be found in those rooms.” * * * * * “Jimmy,” said the detective, a little later, “do you want to make any confession in regard to the Dinwiddie game you have been playing?” “When I do, I’ll send for you,” replied Jimmy. “Maybe you haven’t got me quite so dead to rights as you think you have.” “Oh, yes, I have,” replied the detective. “You’ll get all that’s coming to you, James, before I get through with you.” But the detective had somewhat underrated the resourcefulness of Bare-Faced Jimmy. CHAPTER XIV. THE STOLEN IDENTITY.