“She is quite overcome at being discovered. I am going to talk with her for a few minutes. You may come, say, in ten minutes. The door will be unlocked if she is ready. I shall be with her to witness the restitution of your property.” Never did ten minutes pass so slowly as did those to Mr. Isburn. He placed his watch upon his desk and watched each minute as it slowly ticked away. When the time was up, he went to the door of Miss Dana's office. He turned the knob--the door opened at a slight pressure, and he entered. In a chair by the window, with her head bowed, sat a young Italian girl. As Isburn approached her; he glanced about the room, but Miss Dana was not present. “Signorita,” he said, “I am informed that you have come to restore the ring which you took from me.” Then he noticed by her side was the same basket in which she had brought the flowers, but this time it was empty. She rose to her feet and looked into his eyes with a glance of mute appeal. She took up the basket, and walked towards the door, beckoning to him to follow. Without resenting the incongruity of the situation, he did so. They passed through the hallway and into his private office. She lifted the cover of one side of the basket and took from it a small parcel. She removed the tissue paper disclosing a bunch of cotton wool. From this she extracted the jewel that he prized so highly. He reached forward to take it, but she drew back. She first shut down the cover of the basket. Then she went to the desk, opened the private drawer and pressed the button. The bookcase doors flew open. Her next move was to place the basket in front of the bookcase. Stepping upon it, which enabled her to reach the apple, she removed the cover, and dropped the ring into its receptacle, replaced the cover, stepped down and took up her basket, then closed the bookcase doors. “And that's how you did it,” ejaculated Isburn, greatly astonished at her coolness and audacity. “But how did you find out how to open the bookcase doors?” “You told me,” said the girl in good English, the first words she had spoken. “I told you?” he cried. The Italian girl had a fit of uncontrollable laughter. “Have you forgotten the old adage, Mr. Isburn, that it is a good plan to set a thief to catch a thief?” Isburn sank into a chair. “Can I believe my ears? Miss Dana?” “Exactly,” said the young woman. “This is one of my make-ups. This is what I wore when I discovered the clue that led to the arrest of Corona in that Italian murder case.” “But I don't understand yet,” cried Isburn. “How could you be here as an Italian flower girl when you telephoned me from a place more than fifty miles away?”