"No, no; don't be so hasty. Take a week, Iris, to get your things together, and you stay that long, too, Mr. Bannard; but, of course, it isn't strange that I should want my house to myself after a time." "Not at all, Miss Lucille," Iris smiled pleasantly, "you are quite justified. I will stay a few days, and then I shall go to New York and live with a girl friend of mine, who will be very glad to have me." "And I will remain but a day or two here," said Bannard, "and though I may be back and forth a few times, I'll stay mostly in my New York rooms. I admit I rather want to look around here, for it seems to me that, as heirs to a large fortune of jewels, it's up to Iris and myself to look first in the most likely hiding-places for them; and where more probable than the testator's own house? Also, Miss Darrel, there will yet be much investigation here, in an endeavor to find the murderer; you will have to submit to that." "Of course, I shall put no obstacles in the way of the law. That detective Hughes is a most determined man. He said yesterday, just before the funeral, that to-day he should begin his real investigations." And the detective made good his promise. He arrived at Pellbrook and announced his determination to make a thorough search of the place, house and grounds. "That crypt business," he declared, for he had read the diary, "means a whole lot. It's no church vault, my way of thinking, it's a crypt in this here house and the jewels are there. Mark that. Also, the concealed crypt is part of or connected with the secret passage that leads into that room, where the windows are barred, and that's how the murderer got in--or, at least, how he got out." "But--but there isn't any such crypt," and Iris looked at him imploringly. "If there were, don't you suppose I'd know it?" "You might, and then, again, you mightn't," returned Hughes; then he added, "and then again, mebbe you do." A painful silence followed, for the detective's tone and glance, even more than his words, hinted an implication. "And I wish you'd tell me," he went on, to Iris, "just what that funny business about the ten cent piece means. Did your aunt tell you she was going to leave you a real diamond?" "Yes; for years Mrs. Pell has repeatedly told me that in her will she had directed that I was to receive a small box from her lawyer, which contained a diamond pin. That is, I thought she said a diamond pin; but of course I know now that she really said, 'a dime and pin.' That is not at all surprising, for it was the delight of her life to tease people in some such way." "But she knew you _thought_ she meant a diamond pin?" "Of course, she did." "She never put it in writing?" "No; then she would have had to spell it, and spoil the joke. I don't resent that little trick, it was part of her nature to do those things." "Did she never refer to its value?"