The president said no more. The lines about his mouth tightened and the expression of his face underwent a change. He uttered not a word, but just sat there, his eyes fixed steadily on his companion, who continued to fill his glass with champagne. Cornelius Winthrop Parker was not a man to be easily deceived. He had too much experience of the world for that. All his life he had been reading men and what he heard now in the tone of his host's voice convinced him that he was lying. That, in itself, was sufficient of a shock. To find Kenneth Traynor--the soul of integrity and honor--deliberately betraying a trust of such importance hurt him almost as much as the loss of the gems. That they had gone down with the _Abyssinia_ he did not for a moment believe. It was more likely that they had been sold--possibly to make good Wall Street losses. Talk of big stock deals in which Traynor had been mixed up had reached his ear before today, and more recently this gossip had become more insistent. Kenneth was interested, said rumor, in pool operations involving millions. The recent sudden slump had found him unprepared. Ruin threatened him and to save himself he had succumbed to temptation. This, at least, was the theory which the President's alert brain rapidly evolved as he sat watching the man in front of him. Perhaps all was not yet lost. If the stones had not yet been disposed of, an effort might still be made to recover them and at the same time save Traynor and his young wife from the disgrace that such a grave scandal would entail. The first thing necessary was to keep cool, show no concern and disarm suspicion by pretending to accept the loss as irreparable. Then, at the first opportunity, he would take Wilbur Steell into his confidence. That wide awake lawyer would know exactly how to handle the case. Dick Reynolds would have an opportunity to show his talent as a detective. Breaking the long silence he said calmly: "Of course, I understand your silence. I think you acted wisely. We had better keep the loss to ourselves as long as we can. No one can attach any blame to you. It is a terrible loss, but we must face it like men." The gambler looked up quickly, and eyed his guest narrowly. Seeing nothing on the latter's face to arouse his suspicions, he grew more cheerful. Less sullen and defiant, he extended his hand. "Thanks, old man!" he exclaimed heartily. "I expected no less from you. I can't tell you how badly I feel about the loss. No doubt my manner has seemed strange since my return. I have been irritable with everybody--even my dear wife has noticed it. It was only because I did not know how to make a clear breast of it. Since you take it so sensibly, I'll cheer up. I declare I feel like a new man already." Mr. Parker lit another cigar. Calmly, he said: "That's right, Kenneth my boy. Keep a stiff upper lip. All's for the best. We'll have better luck next time."