“His uncle, the late Mr. Trasmere, did not like him. He told me once that Mr. Rex was extravagant and lazy. On seeing Mr. Rex at the gate my heart went down into my boots and I thought that he must immediately detect that something was wrong. He asked me if his uncle was ill and that gave me a moment to pull myself together, and I told him that I was going on a very urgent errand and running into the street, I had the good luck to find a taxi-cab which drove me to the Central Station. I did not, however, leave town, but made my way to a room which I had once occupied in a house which I knew in Reed Street, where I have been in hiding ever since. I did not see Mr. Trasmere again after lunch. He did not come out to enquire who had called when the telegram arrived; there were frequent callers, tradesmen and others, and I never reported to him unless there was something important or unless letters or telegrams came for him. I have never been in the vault or in the passage leading to the vault, nor have I at any time owned a revolver. “I make this statement voluntarily, without any pressure, and have answered the questions which Inspector Carver has put to me, without any suggestion on his part as to the way they should be answered.” XX “There is the statement,” said Carver. “Not a line must be used; only the fact that the statement has been made can be published. What do you think of it?” “It reads fairly honest to me,” said Tab, and the inspector nodded. “It does to me also. I never had the slightest doubt in my mind that Walters, or Felling, was innocent. The references to Miss Ardfern’s visits are a little obscure, and in one sense rather remarkable, particularly the old man’s reference to the pin.” “You are thinking of the pin we found in the corridor?” said Tab quickly. Carver laughed softly. “I was and I wasn’t,” he said. “The pin of which the old man spoke was obviously one of the jewels which were in the box, and as obviously he was taking an inventory of the jewel-case to see that everything was there.” Tab was silent for a while. “You mean that the jewels really belonged to Trasmere, that he loaned them to the girl and that she had to return them every night?” he asked quietly. “There is no other explanation,” said Carver. “There is no other explanation, either, for her secretarial activities. Trasmere was in a score of enterprises and I have no doubt that he was the man who put up the money for Ursula Ardfern’s season. He was a shrewd old boy and probably had seen her acting. My own impression is that he made a fortune out of this girl--” “But why should she, a successful actress, consent to act as his midnight secretary? Why should she go on as though she were a slave to this man, instead of being, if your theory is correct, an earner of big money?” Carver looked at him steadily.