“If you don’t mind my saying so, Mr. Beardmore,” he said quietly, “you are probably taking a greater interest in Miss Drummond than is good for you.” “What do you mean?” asked Jack quickly. “The whole thing was a plot. That beast Froyant----” The inspector shook his head. “Miss Drummond admitted that she took the statuette,” he said, “and, besides, we saw her coming out of Isaacs’. There isn’t any doubt about it.” “She only made the admission for some reason best known to herself,” said Jack violently. “Do you think a girl like that would steal? Why should she? I would have given her anything she wanted”--he checked himself suddenly. “There is something behind this,” he went on more quietly, “something which I do not understand, and probably you do not understand either, inspector.” The door opened at that moment and the girl came out. She stopped at the sight of Jack and a faint flush crept into her pale face. “Were you in court?” she asked quickly. He nodded, and she shook her head. “You shouldn’t have come,” she said almost vehemently. “How did you know? Who told you?” She seemed oblivious to the presence of the inspector, but for the first time since her arrest she showed some sign of her pent emotion. The colour came and went, and her voice shook a little as she continued: “I am sorry you knew anything about it, Mr. Beardmore, and am desperately sorry you came,” she said. “But it isn’t true,” he interrupted. “You can tell me that, Thalia? It was a plot, wasn’t it? A plot intended to ruin you?” His voice was almost pleading, but she shook her head. “There was no plot,” she said quietly. “I stole from Mr. Froyant.” “But why, why?” he asked despairingly. “Why did you----” “I am afraid I can’t tell you why,” she said with the ghost of a smile on her lips, “except that I needed the money, and that is good and sufficient reason, isn’t it?” “I’ll never believe it.” Jack’s face was set and his grey eyes regarded her steadily. “You are not the kind who would indulge in petty pilfering.” She looked at him for a long time, and then turned her eyes to the inspector. “You may be able to undeceive Mr. Beardmore,” she said. “I am afraid I cannot.” “Where are you going?” he asked as, with a little nod, she was passing on. “I am going home,” she replied. “Please don’t come with me, Mr. Beardmore.” “But you have no home.” “I have a lodging,” she said with a hint of impatience. “Then I am going with you,” he said doggedly. She did not make any remonstrance, and they passed from the court together into the busy street. No word was spoken until they reached the entrance of a tube station. “Now I must go home,” she said more gently than before. “But what are you going to do?” he demanded. “How are you going to get your living with this terrible charge against you?” “Is it so terrible?” she asked coolly. She was walking into the station entrance when he took her arm and swung her round with almost savage violence.