Fuller halted and looked at her doubtfully. Since he had imparted to the girl that knowledge regarding Grison’s possession of the peacock, which he had obtained from Inspector Moon, through Latimer, he certainly did not intend to reveal that Sorley had displayed the ornament in the library. Should he do so, Marie would at once, on what she knew, jump to the conclusion—and very naturally—that her uncle was guilty. Being of an emotional nature she would probably refuse to remain in the house with the man, in which case the truth would have to be told. If it were, and Sorley learned that he was suspected, he would probably place obstacles in the way of what really happened coming to light. That is, assuming he really was the criminal, a fact of which Alan, after thinking over things was by no means certain. And if the man was innocent, he might make an outcry to clear himself, which would be equally prejudicial to the solution of the problem. The more secretly all operations were conducted until positive knowledge was forthcoming, the better it would be for the cause of justice. And in this case, justice consisted in bringing the assassin of Baldwin Grison to the gallows. “Oh,” said Alan lightly, and smiling at her inquiring look, “your uncle only asked me to assist him to learn the riddle of the peacock.” “But how can that be done when the peacock is missing?” “Your uncle had drawings of the bird,” replied the young man evasively. “I have never seen them,” declared Marie rather crossly, “and as the peacock belongs to me, I should see them.” “I will show them to you in a few days,” answered Alan quickly, and made a mental resolve to prepare the drawings himself. And indeed it was necessary that he should have them, since he could not take the actual bird to town, and required something tangible upon which to work. “Don’t you bother your uncle about the matter, Marie, or he may withdraw his permission.” “What permission?” “That I should become engaged to you.” “Oh Alan! oh Alan! oh Alan!” Marie could only gasp and blush. “That is,” said Fuller correcting himself, “he does not directly sanction an official engagement. But he says that if I solve the problem and find the jewels that he will agree to our marriage. Meanwhile we can be together as often as we like.” “That is as good as an engagement,” cried Marie, clapping her hands with delight, “how good of Uncle Ran. I love him for this.” “Don’t tell him so,” interposed Fuller hastily; “he’s an odd fish, and if he knows that I have told you of his yielding so far, he may change his mind, my dear.” Marie nodded very wisely and solemnly. “I see; I quite understand. I shall say nothing to Uncle Ran.” “And ask no questions?” “Not one. But you will tell me everything, won’t you?” she said, pressing up to his side in a coaxing manner.