A little one-sided smile crept up Cleek's face as he listened to the girlish recital. "The clever devil!" he ejaculated. "He went straight back to Blake, not knowing perhaps that the jewels were already in their possession and took the scarf as a proof that he had Lady Margaret in his power...." Then he turned on his heel and faced the prisoner. "Come, Blake, own up--the truth. It will serve you best." The prisoner scowled blackly and stared into Cleek's eyes with hatred in his own. "What's the good?" he muttered, angrily. "You seem to know it all just as if you were there. It's true enough. I went to Sam, who had no business to have acted without me, and told him I'd got the girl and would let on to the police if he didn't give me a share. I didn't know it wasn't the old girl herself, till the day before when I followed them up to London, then I recognized Sammy. Considering I had been away in Paris for over a year planning how to get hold of them jewels, and even joined up with that there crowd of Hindoo niggers, in order to have assistance--they only wanted the 'Purple Emperor,' said I could have what I liked if I helped them to get that, without their having to take life--well, it isn't surprising that I didn't mean to be bested by Sam and his pals." Cleek nodded as if in approval, though it was really the proof of the correctness of his own theories that caused the unconscious movement. "But the law was one too many for both of you, Jimmy my lad," he interrupted, "and you came to grief at last. But what I want to know is how did you get into Cheyne Court?" "Through a secret entrance hidden in the wall, if yer wants ter know!" replied James Blake, sullenly. "Might as well know it first as last. There's a hole in the dried-up moat what leads to the foundations and I happened to discover it when I was hiding there. So I nipped in and then stumbled upon Lady Margaret, lying in the cellar, and saw it was a chance to get even with Sammy. But he only laughed at me when I said I'd got her and told me I'd never find the jewels where he'd hidden 'em. Blast 'im, I never have. But we came to blows then and he clutched at the scarf I held and nicked a piece out of it, just as he fell, then I scuttled upstairs and threw it back into the girl's room--and that's all the blooming story." "Back into her room?" ejaculated Sir Edgar, furiously, at the end of this recital. "So he threw suspicion on my dear girl. Well, I'll wring his damned neck for him as a little return for his trouble!" He leapt forward, but Cleek caught at his shoulder, and with a smile drew him back.