"He probably did not notice its loss. If, as I suppose, he had picked it up and placed it on his finger, mechanically, its absence at such a moment would not be observed. Besides, what clue could he suppose a diamond ring he had never seen before, and which he had had on his finger but an instant, would offer in a case like this?" "You reason close," said the District Attorney; "too close," he added, as he recalled, with painful distinctness, the look and attitude of Mr. Orcutt at the time this ring was first brought into public notice, and realized that so might a man comport himself who, conscious of this ring's association with the crime he had just secretly perpetrated, sees it claimed and put on the finger of the woman he loves. Mr. Gryce, with his usual intuition, seemed to follow the thoughts of the District Attorney. "If our surmises are correct," he remarked, "it was a grim moment for the lawyer when, secure in his immunity from suspicion, he saw Miss Dare come upon the scene with eager inquiries concerning this murder. To you, who had not the clue, it looked as if he feared she was not as innocent as she should be; but, if you will recall the situation now, I think you will see that his agitation can only be explained by his apprehension of her intuitions and an alarm lest her interest sprang from some mysterious doubt of himself." Mr. Ferris shook his head with a gloomy air, but did not respond. "Miss Dare tells me," the detective resumed, "that his first act upon their meeting again at his house was to offer himself to her in marriage. Now you, or any one else, would say this was to show he did not mistrust her, but I say it was to find out if she mistrusted him." Still Mr. Ferris remained silent. "The same reasoning will apply to what followed," continued Mr. Gryce. "You cannot reconcile the thought of his guilt with his taking the case of Mansell and doing all he could to secure his acquittal. But you will find it easier to do so when I tell you that, without taking into consideration any spark of sympathy which he might feel for the man falsely accused of his crime, he knew from Imogene's lips that she would not survive the condemnation of her lover, and that, besides this, his only hope of winning her for his wife lay in the gratitude he might awaken in her if he succeeded in saving his rival." "You are making him out a great villain," murmured Mr. Ferris, bitterly. "And was not that the language of his own countenance as he lay dying?" inquired the detective. Mr. Ferris could not say No. He had himself been too deeply impressed by the sinister look he had observed on the face of his dying friend. He therefore confined himself to remarking, not without sarcasm: "And now for the motive of this hideous crime--for I suppose your ingenuity has discovered one before this." "It will be found in his love for Miss Dare," returned the detective; "but just how I am not prepared to-day to say."