“I certainly have seen it before.” “Where?” “On the finger of Percy Osmond.” Tom halted suddenly and stared at Lionel as if he could hardly believe the evidence of his ears. “I am stating nothing but the simple truth,” continued Lionel. “The moment I saw the ring on Janvard’s finger the thought flashed through me that I had certainly seen it somewhere before. All the time I was talking to Janvard I was trying to call that somewhere to mind, but it did not come to me till after we had left the hotel—not, in fact, till a minute before you spoke about it.” “Are you sure you are not mistaken? There are many ruby rings in the world.” “I don’t for one moment think that I am mistaken,” answered Lionel deliberately. “If the ring worn by Janvard be the one I mean, it has three initial letters engraved inside the hoop. What particular letters they are I cannot now recollect. I chanced to express my admiration of the ring one night in the billiard-room, and Osmond took it off his finger in order that I might examine it. It was then I saw the letters, but without noticing them with sufficient particularity to remember them again.” “I always had an idea,” said Tom, “that Janvard was in some way mixed up with the murder, and this would seem to prove it. He must have stolen the ring from Osmond’s room either immediately before or immediately after the murder.” “I must see that ring,” said Lionel decisively. “It must come into my possession, if only for a minute or two, if only while I ascertain whether the initials are really there.” “I don’t think that there will be much difficulty about that,” said Tom. “The fellow has no suspicion as to whom you really are, or as to the object of our visit to Bath. To admire the ring is the first step: to ask to look at it the second.” A quarter of an hour later Lionel gripped Tom suddenly by the arm. “Bristow,” he whispered, “I have just remembered something. Osmond had that ruby ring on his finger the night before he was murdered! I have a distinct recollection of seeing it on his hand when we were playing that last game of billiards together.” “If this ring,” said Tom, “prove to be the one you believe it to be, the finding of it will be another and a most important link in the chain of evidence.” “Yes—almost, if not quite, the last one that we shall need,” said Lionel. At dinner that evening Janvard in person took in the wine. The eyes of both Lionel and Tom fixed themselves instinctively on his left hand. The ring was no longer there. “Can he suspect anything?” asked Lionel of Tom, as soon as they were alone. “I think not,” answered Tom. “The fellow is evidently uneasy, and will continue to be so as long as you stay under his roof. But the very openness of our proceedings, and the frank way in which we have told him who we are, will go far to disarm any suspicions which he might otherwise have entertained.”