"What could she tell me? She wasn't in this part of the house at the spiritual séance, and as to the moment of the crime, she tells no more than Blake. However, I'll see her for a brief interview. It's always well to get all the accounts possible." Natalie left the studio, and in a few moments Beatrice Faulkner came in. "Just a question or two, Mrs. Faulkner," said Ford, "I know you people are all nearly distraught with these strange and sudden developments. But, tell me, what do you think of Miss Vernon's story of the spirit manifestations in this room?" "I think it was all the girl's imagination, Mr. Ford. She is not only of an exaggerated artistic temperament, but excessively nervous and susceptible to hallucinations." "She is all that, I think. Now, please tell me, very honestly and very carefully, exactly how Mrs. Stannard looked and acted when she ran up to your room to tell you of the strange occurrence in the studio." "She was terribly excited, Mr. Ford, and she could scarcely speak. She stumbled up the stairs----" "Why, did you see her?" "No, I heard her. I was at my writing desk, and the house was still. Then she flew into my room, without knocking----" "Is it her custom to knock?" "Oh, yes, she always does. And she begged me to go down stairs with her, and I did. The rest you know?" "Yes, and a strange tale it is. How do you suppose the jewels came to be on that table?" "I cannot say," Beatrice looked sad. "There seems to be only one explanation. That whoever had them or knew where they were, placed them there." "And how did the bearer of the box get into the locked room?" "I can't imagine. The only thing I can think of is that Natalie didn't lock the door as thoroughly as she thinks she did." "Mrs. Faulkner, tell me this. I assure you I will not use your information unless absolutely necessary. Do you suspect the footman Blake of any connivance--or of any wrong doing in the whole matter?" Beatrice Faulkner hesitated. Then she said, "No, Mr. Ford, I do not. I think Blake a thoroughly honest and trustworthy servant." "And who is the criminal?" "That I cannot say. I am, as you know, merely a visitor, who chanced to be here at this unfortunate time. I have hesitated to express my opinions lest I do harm to the innocent or retard the quest of the guilty. I can only answer your questions in so far as they are not leading up to suspicion of any of my friends." "That is the right attitude, Mrs. Faulkner. I thought there was no necessity for troubling you at all, but one or two minor points I prefer to ask of you rather than Mrs. Stannard. Do you know the identity of 'Goldenheart'?"