“There are several things you’ve done, the latest being to embrace your husband in the vestibule of the hotel when we had arrested him for being in possession of an emerald necklace, and in your emotion relieving him of the incriminating evidence.” She laughed, throwing back her head. “It was prettily done, don’t you think?” she asked. “Very prettily,” said Peter. “Have you any other charge?” “None, except that you are Four Square Jane,” said Peter Dawes. “So you’ve found that out, too, have you?” asked the girl. She raised her cup to her lips without a tremor, and her eyes were dancing with mischief. Peter Dawes felt that had this woman been engaged on a criminal character instead of devoting her life to relieving the man who had robbed her of his easy gains, she would have lived in history as the greatest of all those perverted creatures who set the law at defiance. Steele took a cigarette from his pocket, and offered his case to the detective. “As you say, the jig is up,” said he, “and since we desire most earnestly that there should be no unpleasant scene, and this is a more comfortable place to make a confession than a cold, cold prison cell, I will tell you that the whole scheme of Four Square Jane was mine.” “That’s not true,” said the girl quietly. “You mustn’t take either the responsibility or the credit, dear.” Steele laughed as he held a light to the detective’s cigarette. “Anyway, I planned some of our cleverest exploits,” he said, and she nodded. “As you rightly say, Dawes, my wife is Four Square Jane. Perhaps you would like to know why she took that name?” “I know--or, rather, I guess,” said Peter. “It has to do with four squares in London.” Steele looked surprised. “You’re cleverer than I thought,” he said. “But that is the truth. Joyce and I had been engaged in robbing Claythorpe for a number of years. When we got some actual, good money from him, we held tight to it. Jewels we used either to send in to the hospitals----” “That I know, too,” said Peter, and suddenly flung away his cigarette. He looked at the two suspiciously, but neither pair of eyes fell. “Now then,” said Peter thickly. “Come along. I’ve waited too long.” He rose to his feet and staggered, then took a halting step across the room to reach the door, but Steele was behind him, and had pinioned him before he went two paces. Peter Dawes felt curiously weak and helpless. Moreover, he could not raise his voice very much above a whisper. “That--cigarette--was--drugged,” he said drowsily. “Quite right,” said Steele. “It was one of my Never Fails.” Peter’s head dropped on his breast, and Steele lowered him to the ground. The girl looked down pityingly. “I’m awfully sorry we had to do this, dear,” she said. “It won’t harm him,” said Steele cheerfully. “I think we had better keep some of our sorrow for ourselves, because this hotel is certain to be surrounded. The big danger is that he’s got one of his gentleman friends in the corridor outside.”