"I never really saw the American soldier's face." She sat back in a more comfortable position, conscious, for the first time, of complete fatigue. Recounting the tragic death of her Russian relatives and her own suffering, even to Trenholm's sympathetic ears, was a severe strain. "We had no window in our hovel; only the faint light from a candle. I believe he wore a beard, but I was too ill to care, at the moment, what he looked like. My uncle trusted him and that was enough. Five years have passed since then." "I understand," exclaimed Trenholm sympathetically, then with a tenaciousness which was part of the man, he added: "Was there nothing familiar about Paul's appearance?" She shook her head. "No. I have no doubt that illness had changed his appearance, Mr. Trenholm, to some extent. But with the Paltoff diamond far from my thoughts, and looking upon Mr. Abbott simply as a patient, if he had seemed even vaguely familiar I would have attributed it to the same feeling one has in passing a stranger in the street whom one might have met somewhere. You know the sensation." Trenholm nodded in agreement. "Have you made no effort to trace the Paltoff diamond?" "I was desperately ill for months, Mr. Trenholm; and it was fully a year before I regained anything like my old strength. There was no one I could rely upon--no one in whom I had confidence. I tried, however, to interest one man, a lawyer," her lips tightened, "that experience taught me a lesson I shall never forget." She turned scarlet and for the first time dropped her eyes before Trenholm's glance. She missed the sudden hot wrath which kindled in his eyes; a second later and he had himself in hand again. "Can you describe the diamond, Miss Ward?" he asked. "And tell me its value?" "It is a diamond of astonishing purity, of about forty-nine carats, and has an extraordinary play and brilliance," answered Miriam. "Though much smaller in size than other world-famous diamonds, it is claimed by experts to be an absolutely flawless gem. I believe it is worth in the neighborhood of $200,000 and possibly more." A low whistle escaped Trenholm. "A frightful invitation to crime!" he ejaculated. "And Boris Zybinn was in Canada and in communication with Paul Abbott," pointed out Miriam slowly. "Mr. Trenholm, I know a little of the evil accomplished by that renegade Russian. There is some significance in those letters of his to Mr. Abbott, innocent as they may appear. I will _never_ believe otherwise!" Trenholm leaned forward and, picking up the letters, laid them in Miriam's hands. "Read them over carefully," he begged. "I am open to conviction. But look here, Miss Ward, why didn't Zybinn come down to Abbott's Lodge and visit Paul and then steal the diamond? He might have done that without arousing suspicion. Why write letters about it?" "Possibly he feared arrest and extradition for a former crime if he came into the United States," suggested Miriam, and Trenholm straightened up abruptly.