“The jewels which this lady has lost,” he said very quietly, “are a set of unique rose-topazes. I thought—in fact, I felt that you could, with or without the aid of your stars, help her to recover them.” Blackness, instant and impenetrable, was the answer to this. There was a subdued flowing sound of drapery, as if some one were brushing along the wall. Kent raised his voice the merest trifle. “Unless you wish to be arrested, I advise you not to leave this place. Not by either exit.” “Arrested on what charge?” came half-chokingly out of the darkness. “Theft.” “I didn’t take them.” “Murder, then.” “My God!” So abject was the terror and misery in the cry that Kent felt sorry for the wretch. Then, with a certain dogged bitterness: “I don’t care what you know; I didn’t kill her.” “That is very likely true,” replied Kent soothingly. “But it is what I must know in detail. Find your foot lever and turn on the light.” The two visitors could hear him grope heavily. As the light flashed on, they saw, with a shock, that he was on all fours. It was as if Kent’s word had felled him. Instantly he was up, however, and faced around upon Marjorie Blair. “Who was she?” he demanded. “Your sister?” Mrs. Blair was very pale, but her eyes were steady and her voice under control as she answered: “I do not know.” “You must know! Don’t torture me! I’m a rat in a trap.” “I’m sorry,” she said gently, “that I can’t help you. But I do not know.” “You, then.” The Star-master turned upon Kent. “What am I up against? How did you find me?” Thrusting his hand in his pocket the scientist brought out a little patch of black cloth, with a single star skilfully embroidered on it. “Wild blackberry has long thorns and sharp,” he said. “You left this tatter on Hawkill Cliffs.” At the name, the man’s chin muscle throbbed with his effort to hold his teeth steady against chattering. “At first I suspected an army officer. When I found that the cloth was below grade, the only other starred profession I could think of was astrology. As the highest class astrologer now advertising, you seemed likely to be the man. When I found, first, that you were out of town on July fifth, and, just now, by a somewhat rough experiment, that you had suffered a wound of the right wrist, I was certain.” “What do you want?” “A fair exchange. My name is Chester Kent.” The Star-master’s chin worked convulsively. “The Kent that broke up the Coordinated Spiritism Circle?” “Yes.” “It’s ill bargaining with the devil,” observed Preston Jax grimly. “What’s the exchange?” “I do not believe that you are guilty of murder. Tell me the whole story, plainly and straight, and I’ll clear you in so far as I can believe you innocent.” For the first time the seer’s chin was at peace. “You want me to begin with this lady’s necklace?” “Why, yes. But after that, begin at the beginning.” “The topazes are cached under a rock near the cliff. I couldn’t direct you, but I could show you.”