“What are we going to do with it now?” she asked. She was in a quandary. “I hardly know how to advise.” She hesitated. “Suppose you carry out your present intention and send it to the police. “Oh!” she remembered with a little move of dismay, “I have practically stolen three hundred pounds.” “Three hundred pounds!” He looked at the jewel. “It’s worth more than three hundred pounds.” In a few words she explained how the jewel came to be lost, and how it came to be deposited in the hands of Warrell’s. “I’m glad to hear that your mother is the culprit. I was afraid you’d been gambling.” “Would that worry you?” she asked quickly. “A little,” he said; “it’s enough for one member of a family to gamble.” “Do you gamble very much, Gilbert?” she asked seriously. “A little,” he said. “Not a little,” she corrected. “Stock Exchange business is gambling.” “I am trying to make money for you,” he said brusquely. It was the most brutal thing he had said to her in her short period of married life, and he saw he had hurt her. “I am sorry,” he said gently. “I know I am a brute, but I did not mean to hurt you. I was just protesting in my heart against the unfairness of things. Will you take this, or shall I?” “I will take it,” she said. “But won’t you tell the police where you found it? Possibly they might find the proceeds of other robberies near by.” “I think not,” he replied with a little smile. “I have no desire to incur the anger of this particular gang. I am satisfied in my mind that it is one of the most powerful and one of the most unscrupulous in existence. It is nearly half-past ten,” he said; “I must fly.” He held out his hand, and she took it. She held it for a moment longer than was her wont. “Good-bye,” she said. “Good luck, whatever your business may be.” “Thank you,” he said. She went slowly back to her guests. It did not make the position any easier to understand. She believed her husband, and yet there was a certain reservation in what he had told her, a reservation which said as plainly as his guarded words could tell that there was much more he could have said had he been inclined. She did not doubt his word when he told her that he had never stolen from--from whom was he going to say? She was more determined than ever to solve this mystery, and after her guests had gone she was busily engaged in writing letters. She was hardly in bed that night before she heard his foot on the stairs and listened. He knocked at her door as he passed. “Good-night,” he said. “Good-night,” she replied. She heard his door close gently, and she waited for half an hour until she heard the click of his electric switch which told her that he was in bed, and that his light was extinguished. Then she stole softly out of bed, wrapped her dressing gown round her, and went softly down the stairs. Perhaps his coat was hanging in the hall.