“No, no; nothing of the kind.” Lord Waldmere quickly shook his head. “Her sweet heart has been an open book for me to read at will. There is nothing in that, sir.” “And you recall no incentive, or circumstance, that might have a bearing upon this matter?” “No, none, Mr. Carter.” “Let’s consider, then, the one nearest to it--your visit to the Imperial Loan Company,” said Nick. “I think you said that Lady Waldmere did most of the business.” “She did the whole blooming business,” Lord Waldmere quickly assured him. “She’s jolly well fitted for it, is Mollie, while I’m a doughhead and----” “I understand,” Nick cut in. “You went with her to redeem the jewels, which had been pledged for ten thousand dollars. Did she have the money on her person? That may have been the incentive for the crime, if such it turns out to be.” “But that can’t be, don’t you know?” Waldmere at once protested. “Mollie had the bally ticket for the pledge, but she had no money. I had a certified bank check for the amount. Here it is, sir. See for yourself.” Nick merely glanced at the check, which Lord Waldmere hastily drew from his pocketbook. It bore the current date and corroborated the Englishman’s statements. “It seems to knock that theory on the head,” Nick said thoughtfully, after a moment. “Nevertheless, by Jove, it may be that the jewels----” Nick broke off abruptly, not stating what he had in mind. Instead, drawing forward in his chair, he said, more earnestly: “By the way, Lord Waldmere, did your wife transact this business under her own name, or a fictitious one?” “An assumed name, of course.” “The one by which you are known here?” “No. She used another.” “What was it?” Lord Waldmere scratched his head, staring desperately at the carpet for several moments. “Dash it, sir! I’ve jolly well forgotten,” he cried dubiously. “’Pon my honor, Mr. Carter, I can’t remember.” “Rack your brains for a moment,” Nick suggested, though he had no great hope of any desirable result. “Hang it, sir! I’m giving them a ripping racking. But Mollie always kept the bally ticket, you see, and I had no hand in the blooming business. She has a head for it, don’t you know, and I always let her run things for me. Blast it, sir, I can’t remember!” “Well, well, never mind,” Nick said, a bit bluntly. “Whom did you see in the loan office?” “The jolly manager, I think.” “Do you remember his name?” “’Pon my word, sir, I don’t,” said Waldmere, with a groan over his inability to be of any material aid. “I don’t know that I heard his bally name, sir, as far as that goes. Molly did all of the talking.” “What was said, or done?” “Very little, sir, ’pon my word. Mollie turned in the ticket to a dinky clerk in a window. He took it to a back room, as I remember, and in about five minutes the bally manager came out.” “What did he say?” Nick inquired.