"Would I be such a fool?" said Vass, turning again towards Torry. "The money was in bank-notes, in two bundles of five thousand pounds each. Twenty notes of five hundred pounds each--ten in one bundle, the same number in the other. Manuel has the numbers of these notes, so is it unlikely that I could do anything with bank-notes of such value of which the numbers are known to their owner. I could not change a single one without being found out, and then what benefit would the theft do me. I am neither a fool nor a criminal, Mr. Torry." The detective could not but be struck by this reasoning, which was feasible enough. In the face of the known value and known numbers of the notes, it was ridiculous to suspect Vass. To steal the money under the circumstances would have been simply to court arrest, and the detective, taking a common-sense view of the question, acquitted Vass of the robbery. "I believe you to be innocent," he said genially; "but who is guilty?" "I do not know," said the secretary gloomily, "other than myself and Mr. Grent, no one could have stolen these notes. Mr. Grent did not, I did not; so I can't see how they have disappeared." "Might not the key of the safe have been stolen?" Vass produced a bunch of keys out of his pocket and selected one. "Here is my key," said he holding it up. "It is never off this chain, or out of my possession." Torry nodded and crossed over to the desk on which Mr. Grent's bunch of keys still lay. Amongst them he found a key similar in all respects to that shown by Vass. "So here is Mr. Grent's key," he said, comparing it with the secretary's, "and safe on his chain, in his rooms which no one could have entered since the murder. It is very strange. I don't exactly see my way," he scratched his chin thoughtfully, then cried: "The hat!" "What hat?" asked Leighbourne, amazed at the irrelevancy of the remark. "The hat of the dead woman which was made for Donna Maria Sandoval. I must question her at once about that, and then, and then--well, we'll see." CHAPTER X. DONNA MARIA Wray House was a charming villa on the banks of the Thames. The view of the mansion from the river was singularly picturesque. From the banks a smooth green lawn of closely shorn turf, diversified by oval flower-beds, brilliant with scarlet geranium, sloped gently up to a terrace, bordered by a balustrade of white marble. On this plateau rose the house, a fairy edifice of two storeys, the upper smaller than the lower. A colonnade ran round the house, and supported an upper balcony, broad and spacious, on which opened the French windows of the bedrooms. French windows also gave access to the colonnade, which was liberally sprinkled with small tables and lounging chairs. The whole building painted a brilliant white had, in appearance and design, a tropical look, more suited to equatorial regions than to the cool green misty island of England. This miniature paradise was encircled by a belt of trees.