When the manager and the others had gone, the superintendent said: “Well, Mr. Moss, I’ve decided not to take you into custody, though I may as well tell you now that I quite intended to do so. You’ve been exceedingly imprudent, and you’ve had a narrow escape. As to these diamonds”—he had put them back in the bag and pocketed them—“can you satisfy me that you have a right to them?” “I have all the correspondence relating to them in my office—and I can bring another proof. Ehbrenstein & Co. sent full particulars of the transaction to another of their London agents—this is frequently done, as a covering precaution.” “Very good, we will return to your office and see this agent. If it is as you say, I am prepared to leave the stones with you.” “How about—how about the other stone—you found it on Mr. Templeton, I hope?” The man’s Jewish instincts were predominating now that the crisis was over. “You’ll get that—in good time. Now, Mr. Moss, I don’t want to have any further trouble with you. If all is as you say, and I allow you your freedom, you must be prepared to tell your story to the jury at the remanded inquest. You understand?” “Do you think,” hesitated Moss, a little of his terror returning, “that they’d be likely to return a verdict of—of—murder against me?” “It doesn’t matter in the least what they do,” said the policeman with fine sarcasm in his opinion of the brain powers of the “twelve good men and true.” “It’s only a coroner’s jury. We might have, in that case, for form’s sake, to bring you before the magistrates’ court. But you’d never get committed for trial. _We’ll_ see to that.” The end of it was that the superintendent expressed himself satisfied, released Isaac Moss, and returned to Frattenbury with Colson. In the course of the journey the detective remarked: “I never expected we should find Moss to be our man. When I showed his housekeeper and her husband that stick this morning, pretending I had found it in their master’s boat, and they both denied that they had ever seen it before, I felt pretty certain. Besides, I thought beforehand that the stick was too long to be used by a little man like Moss. Well, that settles _his_ book,” and he rubbed his hands. “We’ve eliminated _two_ out of the three. Now we’ll go for the last one. A cigar merchant, eh, sir? That’s a bit significant.” The superintendent nodded. “What are you going to do, Colson?” “Leave that to me for a bit, sir. I’ve got a card up my sleeve that ought to take the trick. And I’ll play it—before the adjourned inquest!” Smoking his pipe that evening, in his snug little home, he related the events of the day to his wife. “And now for Mr. Joseph Proctor, retired cigar merchant!” he exclaimed gleefully. She took his hand as she sat beside him. “Be careful dear!” she said. “Why?” “You’ve just told me that Mr. Moss is a little man, and would scarcely have carried a long walking-stick.” “Well?” “Isn’t Mr. Proctor a little man, too?”