“It was he who saw her first,” said Yale, and dropped his hand upon the young man’s shoulder. “Jack, you’re a little unstrung, I think. Why are you so interested in Miss Drummond? Of course,” he said suddenly, “you must have seen a lot of her when you were at home. Froyant’s estate joins yours, doesn’t it?” Jack nodded. “If he would give as much attention to the running down of the Crimson Circle as he gives to the hounding of that poor girl,” he said bitterly, “my poor father would be alive to-day.” Derrick Yale did his best to soothe him. He took him back to his office and tried to bring his thoughts to a more pleasant channel. They had been there a quarter of an hour when the telephone bell rang. It was Parr who spoke. “Well?” asked Yale. “I’ve arrested Thalia Drummond, and I am charging her in the morning,” was the laconic message. Yale put down the receiver gently and turned to the young man. “She’s arrested?” Jack guessed before he spoke. Yale nodded. Jack Beardmore’s face was very white. “You see, Jack,” said Yale gently, “you have probably been as much deceived as Froyant. The girl is a thief.” “If she were a thief and murderess,” said Jack doggedly, “I love her.” Chapter VIII. The Charge Mr. Parr’s interview with Harvey Froyant was a short one. At the sight of the detective, that thin man blanched. He knew him by sight and had met him in connection with the Beardmore tragedy. “Well, well,” he asked tremulously. “What is wrong? Have these infernal people started a new campaign?” “Nothing so bad as that, sir,” said Parr. “I came to ask you a few questions. How long have you had Thalia Drummond in your house?” “She has been my secretary for three months,” said Froyant suspiciously. “Why?” “What wages do you pay her?” asked Parr. Mr. Froyant mentioned a sum grossly inadequate, and even he was apologetic for its inefficiency. “I give her her food, you know, and she has evenings off,” he said, feeling that the starvation wage must be justified. “Has she been short of money lately?” Mr. Froyant stared at him. “Why--yes. She asked me if I could advance her five pounds yesterday,” he said. “She said she had a call upon her purse which she could not meet. Of course, I didn’t advance the money. I do not approve of advancing money for work which is not performed,” said Froyant virtuously. “It tends to pauperise----” “You have a large number of antiques, I understand, Mr. Froyant, some of them very valuable. Have you missed any lately?” Froyant jumped to his feet. The very hint that he might have been robbed was sufficient to set his mind in a panic. Without a word he rushed from the room. He was gone three minutes and when he came back his eyes were almost bulging from his head. “My Buddha!” he gasped. “It is worth a hundred pounds. It was there this morning----” “Send for Miss Drummond,” said the detective briefly.