"And if they recognize, but are helpless?" Stuart made a gesture of impatience. "You are simply seeking to enlist my sympathy," he said bitterly. "But you have said nothing which inclines me to listen to you any longer. Apart from the shock of finding you to be--what you are, I am utterly mystified as to your object. I am a poor man. The entire contents of my house would fetch only a few hundred pounds if sold to-morrow. Yet you risk your liberty to rifle my bureau. For the last time--what have you taken from that drawer?" She leaned back against the table, toying with the broken piece of gold and glancing down at it as she did so. Her long lashes cast shadows below her eyes, and a hint of colour was returning to her cheeks. Stuart studied her attentively--even delightedly, for all her shortcomings, and knew in his heart that he could never give her in charge of the police. More and more the wonder of it all grew upon him, and now he suddenly found himself thinking of the unexplained incident of the previous night. "You do not answer," he said. "I will ask you another question: have you attempted to open that drawer prior to this evening?" Mlle. Dorian looked up rapidly, and her cheeks, which had been pale, now flushed rosily. "I try twice before," she confessed, "and cannot open it." "Ah! And--has _someone else_ tried also?" Instantly her colour fled again, and she stared at him wide-eyed, fearful. "Someone else?" she whispered. "Yes--someone else. A man ... wearing a sort of cowl----" "Oh?" she cried and threw out her hands in entreaty. "Do not ask me of _him_! I dare not answer--I dare not!" "You have answered," said Stuart, in a voice unlike his own; for a horrified amazement was creeping upon him and supplanting the contemptuous anger which the discovery of this beautiful girl engaged in pilfering his poor belongings had at first aroused. The mystery of her operations was explained--explained by a deeper and a darker mystery. The horror of the night had been no dream but an almost incredible reality. He now saw before him an agent of the man in the cowl; he perceived that he was in some way entangled in an affair vastly more complex and sinister than a case of petty larceny. "Has the golden scorpion anything to do with the matter?" he demanded abruptly. And in the eyes of his beautiful captive he read the answer. She flinched again as she had done when he had taunted her with being a thief; but he pressed his advantage remorselessly. "So you were concerned in the death of Sir Frank Narcombe!" he said. "I was not!" she cried at him fiercely, and her widely opened eyes were magnificent. "Sir Frank Narcombe is----" She faltered--and ceased speaking, biting her lip which had become tremulous again. "Sir Frank Narcombe is?" prompted Stuart, feeling himself to stand upon the brink of a revelation. "I know nothing of him--this Sir Frank Narcombe." Stuart laughed unmirthfully.