“Why, no,” the girl said hesitating and seemingly confused. “No, I didn’t.” She was now staring at her interrogator with real fear in her eyes. “Well, that doesn’t make any difference,” he said genially, “so long as the jewels were stolen and not merely mislaid, does it?” “No,” she said with a sigh of relief. “There’s one other point,” he said, turning to the elder sister. “You received the compensation money from the company, didn’t you?” “Naturally,” she said tranquilly. “Please don’t think me impertinent,” he said, “but you still have it intact, I presume?” “Only part,” the girl returned. “I gave half of it to my sister.” “I rather thought you might have done that,” he purred as though his especial hobby was discovering affection in other families, “That was a very nice generous thing to do, Miss Cartwright. But you realize of course that if I get your jewels back the money must be returned to the Burglar Insurance people in full,”--he looked significantly at the shrinking younger girl,--“from both of you.” Amy Cartwright clasped her hands nervously. “Oh, I couldn’t do that,” she exclaimed. Ethel turned to her in astonishment. “But Amy, why not?” “I haven’t got it all now.” “But, dear, what did you do with it?” Ethel persisted. Taylor seemed to take a keen interest in Amy Cartwright’s financial affairs. “That’s quite an interesting question,” he observed judiciously. “What did you do with your half?” “I--I paid a lot of bills,” the girl stammered. “Paid a lot of bills!” her sister exclaimed. “But Amy, you distinctly told me--” “One minute,” Taylor interrupted. “Now, Miss Amy,” he said sharply, “what sort of bills did you pay?” “Oh, dressmakers and hats and things,” she answered with a trace of sullenness. “Of course they gave you receipts?” he suggested. “I don’t remember,” she answered. “Oh, you don’t remember,” he said, fixing her with his cold eye. “But you remember whom you paid the money to?” “Of course she does,” Ethel cried, coming to her sister’s aid. She was herself puzzled at this strange man’s attitude. “You do, don’t you, Amy?” “Why, yes,” the other said weakly. “Give me the names!” Taylor demanded, and then looked angrily up to see who had entered his office unbidden. It was James Duncan, apologetic, but urged by powers higher than those of his chief. “The Collector and the Secretary want to see you right away, sir,” he announced. “I can’t leave now,” Taylor cried angrily. And in that moment both girls realized of what ruthless metal he was cast. Gone was the amiable interest in family matters and the kindly wish to aid two girls in getting back their trinkets, and there was left a strong remorseless man who showed he had them very nearly in his power. But Duncan dared not go back with such a message.