“No, of course you didn’t; an unscrupulous woman would not leave capital behind. Give it to me.” “I haven’t it”--but Barnard, paying no attention to the denial, sprang toward her. “Stop, you hurt my arm”--struggling in his grasp. “You brute!” “Give me the letter!” Barnard shook her violently. For answer she sank her teeth in his hand. “You devil!” he gasped, and she reeled backward under his blow. As her weight fell on the unlatched door leading to the private staircase, it opened and precipitated her into the short passage way. In an instant Barnard was by the fallen woman’s side, but before he could search her for the letter he supposed she had, Janet Fordyce stepped into the Chinese room. The passage way was fortunately dark, and she did not observe Barnard kneeling by Kathryn. With a swift movement Barnard pushed the door to, leaving however, a crack through which he could peer into the Chinese room. Humming a gay tune Janet paused by the electric droplight, then sitting down before the desk she opened the left-hand drawer and putting in her hand felt about until her lingers found a spring which she pressed. Instantly the panel between the two drawers, which usually looked as solid as the rest of the desk, flew out, and Janet, bending down slipped her hand inside the opening and pulled out a jewel-box. With leisurely movement she opened the case and held it directly under the lamp, and the light fell on a superb ruby set as a pendant. She gazed at it admiringly and taking the jewel out of the case carefully inspected the exquisite workmanship of the pendant. She fondled the jewel for a moment, then replaced it in its case, and laid the latter back in the secret drawer. But before closing the drawer she evidently thought better of it and again lifted out the ruby pendant, replaced the empty case, closed the drawer, and unhurriedly left the room. Through the crack of the door Barnard, with eyes almost starting from his head, watched Janet’s every movement; so intent was he that he failed to notice Kathryn. Taking advantage of his absorption, she had risen to her knees and was also peering into the Chinese room. As Janet disappeared, she sprang to her feet, intending to run upstairs, but Barnard pulled her back and stared at her in horror. She was shaking with noiseless mirth which threatened to break out into hysterical weeping. “The girl’s a thief, a common thief,” she gasped faintly. “Trust you to find it out, and use your knowledge to bend her to your will. Well, you may make her your wife, but she loves Tom Nichols.” She blanched before his furious expression. “I tell you, Janet Fordyce loves Tom Nichols,” she repeated stubbornly. “I’ve just read the young fool’s diary.” “Your inordinate curiosity will be your ruin,” said Barnard, with ominous quietness. “Give me the paper you found in Marjorie Langdon’s room,” folding his handkerchief around his bruised hand.