The inspector hesitated, looked awkward, and did not reply. Patricia stood up, trying to control her nerves, but quivering from head to foot. "Perhaps you accuse me of murdering Mrs. Pentreddle before I went out?" "No, dear, no," cried Mrs. Sellars, catching her hand kindly. "The doctor says that poor Martha was murdered about ten o'clock, and as you can prove that you were absent by means of those policemen and the cabman, no one can accuse you of the crime. And I know," said Mrs. Sellars, bursting into tears, "that you wouldn't hurt a fly, much less Martha, who liked you in her disagreeable way." "I am not accusing Miss Carrol, I beg to say," remarked the inspector, as soon as he secured a moment to speak; "but the whole tale is so strange that Miss Carrol cannot blame me if I desire proofs. Naturally a high-spirited young lady doesn't like to be questioned in this way, but----" "I don't mind being questioned," interrupted Patricia, her hot Irish blood aflame. "But it is being doubted that I object to." "Natural enough; natural enough," said Harkness soothingly; "but one cannot bring personal feelings into legal matters. I have daughters myself of your age, Miss Carrol, and I have every sympathy with your position. As a man and a father, I fully believe every word you say; but as an officer, I am obliged to disbelieve until I have proofs. If I do not demand them, the jury and the coroner will." "When? Where?" asked Patricia, startled. "At the inquest. You will be the most important witness, Miss Carrol." "But I don't know who committed the crime." "No, nor does anyone else. But you can tell the coroner and the jury what you have told me, and I hope that the articles you left on the bench will be forthcoming to prove the truth of your extraordinary story. Come, Miss Carrol, you must see that I am trying to make things as pleasant as possible for you, consistent with my official responsibility." "Yes," said Patricia, and sat down again, for, after all, she could not deny but what her story sounded very incredible. And as yet she had not told the most incredible portion, as that had to do with her own peculiar sixth sense, which she was very certain neither the inspector nor Mrs. Sellars possessed. And as they had not got it, how useless it would be, as she fully recognized, to relate the sensations caused by the stolen jewel. Her tale was improbable enough, so there was no need to make it still more so. "Can you describe what was stolen?" Harkness asked her. Patricia did so, and the explanation was received with exclamations of surprise by Mrs. Sellars and with a somewhat sceptical air by the inspector. Patricia saw his doubts and grew annoyed again. "What is the use of my telling you things when you won't believe me?"