"So it was brought into the country illegally!" commented the detective. "Captain," he went on, addressing the now frankly bewildered officer, "you see this picture is not only far more valuable than most great jewels but it has a past almost as complicated as the Hope diamond. It's not unusual that a world-famous work of art should find its way out of Italy in spite of the Italian law, which forbids the export of such things, but the theft is far more remarkable than that of any jewel could possibly be, inasmuch as the supreme difficulty of disposing of the painting once it was stolen is obvious--that's right, isn't it, Mr. Markheim?" "You explain it very well, very well," replied Markheim, nervous and excited--and truth to tell not a little affected by the cocktails he had imbibed. It was most precarious, taking so many upon an empty stomach, as he should have known. "You have a very clear idea, young man--though allow me to make it plain that I was in no way involved in the original affair of bringing this canvas into the United States. I had nothing whatsoever to do with it--nothing." "You merely paid five hundred thousand for it after it got here," remarked Peaches. "I see." The remark, however, seemed to pass unnoticed by anyone save myself. "Have you any suspicion as to who the thief might have been, Mr. Markheim?" asked the inspector, visibly impressed by the huge sum at which the picture was valued. "Not a very clear suspicion," replied Sebastian. "Then there is some one?" queried the officer, taking out his notebook and pencil in an important manner. "We had some trouble last night," replied Mr. Markheim. "Miss Talbot here thought she saw two men in the garden, and came downstairs." "Ah!" remarked the inspector, scribbling. "Did you get a good look at them, Miss Talbot?" "Just a glimpse," I replied. "And where were you when you saw them?" he went on. For a moment I was nonplussed. Then I recollected that I was not under oath, and told as much of the truth as I deemed warrantable or indeed necessary. "I was at an upper window," I returned with dignity. "I had gone upstairs for the night." "Ah!" said the inspector, writing it down. "Could you identify them?" "Well, one had a funny hat," I said. "I think I would know it again. It was straw--like this young man's." I pointed at the detective, to whom I had taken a dislike--he was altogether too clever to be satisfactory. At once everybody stared at him with suspicion, and the fact gave me considerable comfort. Even the inspector glanced at the young man unpleasantly as he wrote down "straw-hat." "Did you see anything else?" the inspector went on.