He took it calmly enough but instantly realized her warning. His alert gaze swept about the room and dwelt no longer on the screen than any other of its furnishing, but he knew where his enemy was hidden. “Thanks,” he said simply, and lighted it with a hand that was steady. “Now we are alone,” she said, “and those men imagine you are not here, and I admit you’ve beaten me, please tell me the truth about that necklace. What have you done with it?” “Are you still persisting in that strange delusion?” he asked calmly. “I never had a necklace, Miss Cartwright.” “But I know you did,” she persisted, “I saw it.” “Ah, you thought you did,” he corrected. “We went all over that in my room and I imagined I had persuaded you. Why do you want to know this?” “The agent of the secret service has been here,” she told him, “and he suspects that I am defending you and won’t believe what I say. If you’ll tell me the truth, I’ll get him to let you go.” “Then the secret service agent is just as wrong as you,” he remarked. “I have no necklace. Because I knock down a man who breaks into my room at night and escape rather than be shot, am I supposed on that account to carry these fabulous necklaces about with me? I don’t care even to prolong this conversation, Miss Cartwright.” At this point Lambart entered, and coming toward him, delivered a small package. “Pardon me, sir,” the butler began, “but Mr Vaughan asked me to take this to your room.” “What is it?” Denby asked, and a slight movement behind the screen betokened the curiosity of the man hidden there. “Mr. Vaughan didn’t say, sir,” Lambart returned. “He only said it was very important for you to get it immediately.” Lambart bowed and retired. “I wonder what on earth Monty can be sending me at this time of the night,” said Denby, balancing the thing as though to judge its contents from the weight. “It must be important, so forgive me if I see what it is.” He tore the envelope open carelessly, and out of it dropped the necklace. Quickly he stooped down and picked it up, putting it in his left-hand coat-pocket. The girl could not refrain from giving a cry as he did so. “Oh,” she exclaimed, “we’re done for now.” There was a crash behind them as the screen clattered to the floor and Daniel Taylor stepped over it, levelled gun in hand. “Hands up, Denby,” he commanded, and then blew his police whistle. He looked sourly at the trembling girl by the table. “I don’t know how you tipped him off, but you two are damned smart, aren’t you? But I’ve got you both now, so it’s just as well it happened as it did.” Gibbs and Duncan burst in, their anxious faces breaking into smiles of joy. The Chief’s temper if his plans miscarried was a fixed quantity and an unpleasant one. They had been consoling themselves outside, and Duncan had been wishing he had Gibbs’ outside job. Now everything would be well and they would each be able to boast in his home circle of to-night’s exploit.