"You're trying to trip me, Mr. Roberts. But you can't do it. Now, look here, if that note had been written to me, wouldn't it mean that these emeralds were mine, and wouldn't I claim them?" "But it states distinctly that you know where they are, and the presumption is, that you have them in your possession." "Indeed, I haven't! I wish I had! I mean, I wish I had them rightfully in my possession! They're wonderful stones! Look here, Mr. Roberts, why don't you suspect Mr. Truxton? He's gem crazy,--and you know gem enthusiasts often go to any length to get the stones they covet." "I hadn't thought of him. And, supposing he did commit crime to steal Mr. Stannard's jewels, just how did he get away afterward, without discovery?" "Well, suppose he stabbed Mr. Stannard, then turned off the light, and then slipped out through the Billiard Room when Joyce's back was turned?" "Too unlikely. Besides, Mr. Courtenay, who sat on the bench on the lawn, just then, would have seen him leave the house." "I suppose he would." Natalie drew a deep sigh. "Do give it up, Mr. Roberts. You never can untangle it." "Are you going to stay here long?" "For a time. Mrs. Stannard has asked me to, and Barry wants me." The simplicity of the girl's manner almost disarmed Bobsy, but he went on: "Mrs. Stannard, then, has no hard feelings toward you?" "I don't know. Honestly, Mr. Roberts, I don't know whether she is keeping me here because she suspects me, or because she doesn't." "Did Mr. Stannard leave you anything in his will?" The rose-pink cheeks flushed deeper, as Natalie replied, "Yes, he did. You probably know that already." "No, I didn't. Was it a worthwhile amount?" "From my point of view, yes. It was seventy thousand dollars." "Whew! Decidedly worthwhile, from almost anybody's point of view." "I know what you're thinking," cried Natalie as he paused. "It's an added reason for suspecting me of killing him." "It might be construed so." "Well, I didn't! I was pretty mad, when he made that horrid etching from my Goldenrod picture----" "And you smudged the wax impression so he couldn't use it----" "I did not! I would willingly have done so, if I'd thought of it, but I didn't do it, all the same." "Who did?" "Whoever killed him, I suppose." "Then that lets out Mr. Truxton, or a burglar of any sort. It leaves only Mrs. Stannard. Mightn't she have done it?" "A jealous woman might do anything. But Joyce wasn't especially jealous of me,--no more than of anybody Mr. Stannard might be attracted to." "And to whom else was he attracted?" "Nobody just now,--that I know of. You see, Mr. Roberts, I was just about to leave this house, because Mr. Stannard was too devoted in his attentions to me. I tell you this frankly, because I want you to understand the situation." "And I want to understand it. Tell me more of this matter."