"Wait a minute," he went on, leading Sam out of earshot of the garage. "What's that song I heard you singing a bit ago?" "No, sir! Sam don't sing that more." "Oh, yes, Sam does. It's a pretty song. Come now, I like your voice. Sam sings pretty--very pretty." The wheedlesome tone and smile did the trick, and the foolish boy broke out in a low, crooning song: "It is a sin to steal a pin, As well as any greater thing." "Good!" Fibsy applauded. "Where'd you learn that, Samivel?" "Long ago, baby days." "And why do you sing it to-day?" A look of fear came over Sam's face, followed by a smile of cunning. He looked like a leering gargoyle, as grotesque as any on Notre Dame. "You know why?" he whispered. "Oh, yes, I know why. But we won't tell anybody, will us?" "No, not anybody." "Who'd you steal it from?" "From chair, he, he! From old Mister Chair." "Yes, of course," and Fibsy's heart beat fast. "The big, fat Mister Chair?" "Yes, big fat Mister Chair!" "In Mrs. Pell's room?" "Yes, yes, in Missy Pell's room." But Fibsy began to think the clouded intellect was merely repeating words spoken to it, and he asked, "Who put pin in chair for Sam to steal?" "Who?" and the blank, foolish face was inquiring. "Campbell?" "No, no! not Campbell!" "No, no, it was Agnes." "No! not Agnes----" "Who, then?" Fibsy held his breath, lest he disturb the evident effort the poor lad was making to remember. "Missy Iris," Sam said at last, "yes, Missy Iris, Missy Iris--yes, Missy----" "There, there," Fibsy shut him up, "don't say that again. Did you see her?" "Yes, by window. Then, Sam steal pin. It is a sin to steal a pin. It is a sin to steal a pin--it is----" But Fibsy set to work to turn the poor befuddled mind in another direction, and after a time he succeeded. CHAPTER XIV FIBSY AND SAM "There are two things to find," Fleming Stone said, "the murderer and the pin. There are two things to find out, how the murderer got away, and why the pin is valuable." Stone persisted in his belief that the pin was of value, and that in some way it would lead to the discovery of the jewels. He had read all of Ursula Pell's diary, and though it gave no definite assurance, there were hints in it that strengthened his theory. Before he had been in the Pell house twenty-four hours, he had learned all he could from the examination of the whole premises and the inspection of all the papers and books in Mrs. Pell's desk. He declared that the murderer was after the pin, and that, failing to find it, he had maltreated Ursula Pell in a fit of rage at his failure. "She was of an irritating nature, you tell me," Stone said, "and it may well be that she not only refused to give up the pin, but teased and tantalized the intruder who sought it." "But what use _could_ the pin be as a clue to the jewels?" Lucille Darrel asked. "I can't imagine any theory that would explain that."