“It won’t do, Mr. Moss,” said the superintendent, shaking his head. “We know you gave a sudden and unexpected order for your car early that morning. We know you are not in the habit of coming up to town on Sunday at all. For your own sake you’d better tell us the truth and hide nothing.” The little man wiped the sweat off his brow. “Yes,” he said, “I’ll tell you the truth. I came away because I was frightened. So help me God, that’s true.” “Frightened of what?” “Lest I should be accused of being mixed up in Mr. Templeton’s murder.” “How did you hear of his murder?” “My man told me—early Sunday morning.” “It won’t do, Mr. Moss,” repeated the superintendent. “You had left the house before it was known that the murder had taken place. Come—if you can’t tell me the truth, I shall have to take you away.” Isaac Moss wrung his hands. “No—no!” he cried, “don’t do that. My man didn’t tell me. That was a lie. But I knew—I tell you I knew.” The superintendent looked at his notebook for a moment. Then he spoke. “It would help us—and you, too—if you would tell us what you were doing on board Mr. Templeton’s yacht at one o’clock on Sunday morning.” Moss started to his feet again. “I wasn’t there,” he cried. “You’re mistaken. I wasn’t there.” “You _were_ there,” said the superintendent sternly. “I’ll give you one more chance of speaking the truth, and if you don’t I’ll charge you with the murder of Reginald Templeton and take you into custody.” The wretched man sank into his chair again. Then he said, almost in a whisper: “Very well, then—I was there.” “That’s better,” said the superintendent. “We’ll go into that further in a moment. Now then,” and he made a shot in the dark, “what have you done with the diamonds you took from Mr. Templeton?” A little to the surprise of the two policemen the Jew, who was growing calmer under the influence of the stimulant, rose from his seat, unlocked a safe, took from it a small leather bag, very much like the one that had been found on the dead man, and poured its contents on the table. “There they are,” he said, “all but one—and that was the cause of the trouble.” “You stole these diamonds?” “_Stole_ them!” cried Moss. “_I_ steal! Of course I never stole them. Ask anybody about me, and they’ll tell you I’m a regular dealer in the stones. Besides—I gave Templeton the receipt for them. Didn’t you find it? He put it in his pocket-book. I saw him do it.” The superintendent looked at Colson, who elevated his eyebrows, but said nothing. Both men were a little out of their reckoning. Then the superintendent said to Moss: