"I'm going down to Toorak," said Naball quietly, "to trace this note, beginning with Kitty Marchurst as the last holder of it; she'll tell lies, but whether she does or not, I'll get to the bottom of this affair. Good-day, Miss Rainsford," and taking off his hat with a flourish, he left her abruptly, and strolled leisurely down the street. Eugénie watched him with eager eyes until he was out of sight, and then turned round to walk home. "Oh, my dear! my dear!" she murmured, "if I can only save you from this terrible danger--but not at the cost of that poor woman's life--oh, not that!" The detective, on his way down to Toorak, went over the case in his own mind, in order to see against whom the evidence was strongest. At last, after considerable cogitation, he came to the conclusion that, after all, Villiers must be the guilty man, and that Kitty knew more about the crime than she chose to tell. "I can't get over Villiers having had that diamond crescent," he thought, looking out of the carriage windows. "She denied it was hers, and then Fenton told me he gave it to her. I wonder if he had anything to do with the affair--humph!--not likely. If she thought it was him, she'd tell at once. Perhaps she really thinks Stewart stole the diamonds. Pish! I don't believe it. She's had a finger in the pie, whoever did it, and this murder is the outcome of the robbery. Well, I'll see if she can account for her possession of this five-pound note--that's the main thing." Kitty Marchurst was at home, and sent a message to the detective that she would see him in a few minutes, so Naball walked up and down the long drawing-room with some impatience. "If she'll only tell the truth," he muttered restlessly; "but I'm getting to doubt her, so that I can't be sure. There's one thing, Keith Stewart's fate rests entirely with her now, so if he saved her child's life, as she says he did, this is the time to prove her gratitude." At this moment the door opened, and Caprice entered. She looked pale and weary, for the trials of the last few months had not been endured without leaving some mark of their passage. Naball did not know whether this haggard-looking woman was guilty or innocent, but he could not help pitying her, so worn-out did she seem. "You are not well," he said when she seated herself. Kitty sighed wearily, and pushed the loose hair off her forehead. "No," she replied listlessly. "I'm getting worn-out over this trouble. It's no good my telling you anything, because you don't believe me. What is the matter now? Have you got further proof of my guilt?" "I don't know," said Naball, coolly producing the five-pound note; "unless you call this proof." "A five-pound note," she said contemptuously. "Well?" "It is a five-pound note," explained Naball smoothly; "but not an ordinary one--in fact, it is one of the notes stolen from Lazarus's safe."