"Mr. Maitland, why not be frank with me? My sole object is to capture a notorious burglar. I have no desire to meddle with your private affairs, but.... You may trust in my discretion. Who was the young lady?" "To conceal her identity," said Maitland, undisturbed, "is precisely why I have been lying to you." "You refuse us that information?" "Absolutely. I have no choice in the matter. You must see that." Snaith shook his head, baffled, infinitely perturbed, to Maitland's hidden delight. "Of course," said he, "the policeman at the ferry recognized me?" "You are well known to him," admitted Snaith. "But that is a side issue. What puzzles me is why you let Anisty escape. It is inconceivable." "From a police point of view." "From any point of view," said Snaith obstinately. "The man breaks into your house, steals your jewels--" "This is getting tiresome," Maitland interrupted curtly. "Is it possible that you suspect me of conniving at the theft of my own property?" Snaith's eyes were keen upon him. "Stranger things have been known. And yet--the motive is lacking. You are not financially embarrassed,--so far as we can determine, at least." Maitland politely interposed his fingers between his yawn and the detective's intent regard. "You have ten minutes more, I'm sorry to say," he said; glancing at the clock. "And there is another point, more significant yet." "Ah?" "Yes." Snaith bent forward, elbows on knees, hat and cane swinging, eyes implacable, hard, relentless. "Anisty," he said slowly, "left a tolerably complete burglar's kit in your library." "Well--he's a burglar, isn't he?" "Not that kind." Snaith shook his head. "But his departure was somewhat hurried. I can conceive that he might abandon his kit--" "But it was not his." "Not Anisty's?" "Anisty does not depend on such antiquated methods, Mr. Maitland; save that in extreme instances, with a particularly stubborn safe, he employs a high explosive that, so far as we can find out, is practically noiseless. Its nature is a mystery.... But such old-fashioned strong-boxes as yours at Greenfields he opens by ear, so to speak,--listens to the combination. He was once an expert, reputably employed by a prominent firm of safe manufacturers, in whose service he gained the skill that has made him--what he is." "But,"--Maitland cast about at random, feeling himself cornered,--"may he not have had accomplices?" "He's no such fool. Unless he has gone mad, he worked alone. I presume you discovered no accomplice?" "I? The devil, no!" Snaith smiled mysteriously, then fell thoughtful, pondering. "You are an enigma," he said, at length. "I can not understand why you refuse us all information, when I consider that the jewels were yours--" "Are mine," Maitland corrected. "No longer." "I beg your pardon; I have them."