“I don’t know what to say about that yet. Opinions differ on this point. His friends speak of him as the mildest kind of a man who, without native executive skill, could not manage the great household he has in charge. His enemies, and we have unearthed a few, say, on the contrary, that they have never had any confidence in his quiet ways; that these were not in keeping with the fact or his having been a California miner in the early fifties. “You can see I am putting you very nearly where we are ourselves. Nor do I see why I should not add that this passion of the seemingly subdued but really hot-headed steward for a woman, who never showed him anything but what he might call an insulting indifference, struck us as a clue to be worked up, especially after we received this answer to a telegram we sent late last night to the nurse who is caring for Mr. Fairbrother in New Mexico.” He handed me a small yellow slip and I read: “The steward left Mr. Fairbrother at El Moro. He has not heard from him since. “ANNETTA LA SERRA “For Abner Fairbrother.” “At El Moro?” I cried. “Why, that was long enough ago.” “For him to have reached New York before the murder. Exactly so, if he took advantage of every close connection.” XIV. TRAPPED I caught my breath sharply. I did not say anything. I felt that I did not understand the inspector sufficiently yet to speak. He seemed to be pleased with my reticence. At all events, his manner grew even kinder as he said: “This Sears is a witness we must have. He is being looked for now, high and low, and we hope to get some clue to his whereabouts before night. That is, if he is in this city. Meanwhile, we are all glad—I am sure you are also—to spare so distinguished a gentleman as Mr. Grey the slightest annoyance.” “And Mr. Durand? What of him in this interim?” “He will have to await developments. I see no other way, my dear.” It was kindly said, but my head drooped. This waiting was what was killing him and killing me. The inspector saw and gently patted my hand. “Come,” said he, “you have head enough to see that it is never wise to force matters.” Then, possibly with an intention of rousing me, he remarked: “There is another small fact which may interest you. It concerns the waiter, Wellgood, recommended, as you will remember, by this Sears. In my talk with Jones it leaked out as a matter of small moment, and so it was to him, that this Wellgood was the waiter who ran and picked up the diamond after it fell from Mr. Grey’s hand.” “Ah!” “This may mean nothing—it meant nothing to Jones—but I inform you of it because there is a question I want to put to you in this connection. You smile.” “Did I?” I meekly answered. “I do not know why.” This was not true. I had been waiting to see why the inspector had so honored me with all these disclosures, almost with his thoughts. Now I saw. He desired something in return.