“Don’t deceive yourself, Miss Van Arsdale; it is not among the possibilities that Mr. Grey has had any connection with this crime. He is an eccentric man, that’s all.” “But—but—” “I shall do my duty. I shall satisfy you and myself on certain points, and if—” I hardly breathed “—there is the least doubt, I will see you again and—” The change he saw in me frightened away the end of his sentence. Turning upon me with some severity, he declared: “There are nine hundred and ninety-nine chances in a thousand that my next word to you will be to prepare yourself for Mr. Durand’s arraignment and trial. But an infinitesimal chance remains to the contrary. If you choose to trust to it, I can only admire your pluck and the great confidence you show in your unfortunate lover.” And with this half-hearted encouragement I was forced to be content, not only for that day, but for many days, when— XI. THE INSPECTOR ASTONISHES ME But before I proceed to relate what happened at the end of those two weeks, I must say a word or two in regard to what happened during them. Nothing happened to improve Mr. Durand’s position, and nothing openly to compromise Mr. Grey’s. Mr. Fairbrother, from whose testimony many of us hoped something would yet be gleaned calculated to give a turn to the suspicion now centered on one man, continued ill in New Mexico; and all that could be learned from him of any importance was contained in a short letter dictated from his bed, in which he affirmed that the diamond, when it left him, was in a unique setting procured by himself in France; that he knew of no other jewel similarly mounted, and that if the false gem was set according to his own description, the probabilities were that the imitation stone had been put in place of the real one under his wife’s direction and in some workshop in New York, as she was not the woman to take the trouble to send abroad for anything she could get done in this country. The description followed. It coincided with the one we all knew. This was something of a blow to me. Public opinion would naturally reflect that of the husband, and it would require very strong evidence indeed to combat a logical supposition of this kind with one so forced and seemingly extravagant as that upon which my own theory was based. Yet truth often transcends imagination, and, having confidence in the inspector’s integrity, I subdued my impatience for a week, almost for two, when my suspense and rapidly culminating dread of some action being taken against Mr. Durand were suddenly cut short by a message from the inspector, followed by his speedy presence in my uncle’s house. We have a little room on our parlor floor, very snug and secluded, and in this room I received him. Seldom have I dreaded a meeting more and seldom have I been met with greater kindness and consideration. He was so kind that I feared he had only disappointing news to communicate, but his first words reassured me. He said: