He paused significantly, with his eyes on Mary. Evidently Berrington had made some great and startling discovery, or he would not have been so dreadfully agitated. Even in the moment of her awful sorrow, Mary could find time to speak and think of others. "I am in a great measure responsible for this," she said. "Philip, Beatrice Richford is in the house; she has a valuable parcel of diamonds in her pocket; those thieves there know it. Go to her assistance at once; see that she is safe from harm. If anything happens to her I shall never forgive myself. Why don't you go at once?" "I am sorry," Berrington stammered. He seemed quite dazed and confused. "I have no doubt that Mrs. Richford will be perfectly safe, seeing that assistance is at hand. Indeed, I let her know that I was in the house so that she should not be unduly frightened. But there are other matters of far greater importance than that. Sir Charles Darryll----" "I thought we should come to Sir Charles Darryll," Field cut in swiftly. "But we need not discuss that matter here and now. Do you want me?" Field asked the question with a strange ring in his voice. Berrington wondered--he was rapidly regaining complete possession of himself. He moved towards the house. "In a few minutes," he said. "Wait till I give you the signal. Thank goodness, you were so close by." Berrington passed into the house again and closed the door behind him. CHAPTER XXXV There was a thrill of excitement, an electric feeling in the air that was not lost to anyone of the little group standing there in the darkness. That some momentous event was going to happen everybody knew without being told. Tacitly, it seemed to be understood that everything was in the hands of Inspector Field. Previously, on the arrival of his two men, he had sent one of them off with hurried instructions of some kind. The other man stood by the gate like a statue. Mark Ventmore, growing restless at last, turned to Field and asked a question. The inspector was wiping his damp hands upon his handkerchief as if he himself was a thief waiting for arrest. "We are going to wait," he said curtly, "and there is an end of the matter." Mark felt that he could not say any more after that. Mary was still crying softly to herself. The misery was with her yet, as she felt that it would be to her dying day, but the agony of suspense was past. Of what took place in that house from time to time she knew a great deal, but some things had been kept back from her. It was the vague feeling of what might be that frightened her. Half an hour or more passed in the same tense, rigid silence, and yet there was no sign from the house. A figure crossed the road and came up the drive, making no more noise than a ghost. It was Field's man returning. The inspector turned to him with an eager agitation that seemed strange to him. "Well," he asked, "have you anything definite?"