"You don't know. Leaving out, as I said before, the question of how the villain got in or out, it might easily have been one or more of the servants. And other help is hired beside the regular house crowd. Take it from me, it was somebody in the house, and not an intruder from outside."

"And take it from me, you don't know what you're talking about," said Roger Downing, as he angrily stalked away.

Bannard had said very little to Iris since his coming to Pellbrook, but he now sought her out, and asked her what she thought about the whole matter.

"I don't know what to think," Iris replied to his question, "but I don't know as it matters so much about solving the mystery. Poor Aunt Ursula is dead, she was killed, but I don't see how we can find out who did it.

I think, Win, it must have been somebody we don't know about--say, someone connected with her early life--you know, she has had a more or less varied career."

"How do you mean? She lived here very quietly."

"Yes, but before she came here. Before we knew her, even before we were born. And then, her jewels. n.o.body ever owned a splendid collection of jewels but what they were beset by robbers and burglars to get the treasure."

"Then you think it an ordinary jewel robbery?"

"Not ordinary! Far from that! But I can't help thinking that was what the thieves were after. Why, you know her jewels are world famous."

"What do you mean by world famous?"

"Well, maybe not that, but well known among jewelers and jewel collectors. So they would, of course, be known to professional jewel thieves."

"That's so. Where are they anyway?"

"The thieves?"

"No; the jewels."

"I haven't the least idea----"

"Haven't you? Honestly!"

"Indeed, I haven't."

"I don't believe you."

"Why, Win Bannard, what do you mean!"

"Oh, I oughtn't to say that, but truly, Iris, I supposed of course you knew where Aunt Ursula kept 'em."

"Well, I don't. I've not the slightest notion of her hiding place."

"Hiding place! Aren't they in a safe deposit, or something of that sort?"

"They may be, but I don't think so. But it will be told in the will. Mr.

Chapin is so ridiculously secretive about the will! Sometimes I think she may have left them all to someone else after all."

"Someone else?"

"Yes, someone besides us. I think, don't you, that we ought to be her princ.i.p.al heirs? But she promised me, always, her wonderful diamond pin."

"Huh! I don't think one diamond pin so much! Why, she has----"

"I know, but she always spoke of this particular diamond pin that she destined for me as something especially valuable. I expect it is a sort of Kohinoor."

"Oh, I didn't know about that. And what is she going to leave me, to match up to that?"

"I don't know, I'm sure. But we sound very mercenary, talking like this, before the poor lady is even buried."

"To be honest, Iris, I'm terribly sorry for the way the poor thing was killed, but I can't grieve very deeply, unless I'm a hypocrite. As you know, Aunt Ursula and I weren't good friends----"

"Who could be friends with Aunt Ursula? I tried my best, Win, my very best, but she was too trying to live with! You've no idea what I went through!"

"Oh, yes, I've an idea. I lived with her some years myself. Well, we'll say nothing but good of her now she's gone. I say, Iris, let's take a walk down to the village and see Browne, the jeweler."

"What for?"

"Ask him about her jewels."

"Oh, no, I think that would be horrid. You go, if you like. I shan't."

But Iris went out on the verandah with Bannard, and they ran into Sam Torrey, the brother of Agnes.

"h.e.l.lo, Sam," said Bannard. "What's that you were saying about seeing a man around here Sunday morning."

"Not morning, but noon," declared Sam, gazing with lack-l.u.s.ter eyes at his questioner.

"Brace up, now, Sam, tell me all you know," and Bannard looked the boy squarely in the eye.

Sam, about seventeen, or so, was of undeveloped intellect, called by the neighbors half-witted. But if pinned down to a subject and his attention kept on it, he could talk pretty nearly rationally.

"Know lots. Saw man here--there--near edge of woods--nice little car, oh, awful nice little car----"

"Yes, go on, what did he do?"

"Do? Do? Oh, nothing. Walked around----"

"Hold on, you said he was in a car."

"No, walked around, sly--oh, so sly----"

"Rubbish! you're making up!"

"Of course he is," said Iris, "he can't tell a connected story. Who was the man, Sam?"

"Don't know name. But--he was at the show to-day."

"At the inquest! No!" Bannard exclaimed.

"Yes, he was. Same man. Oh, I know him, he killed Missy Pell."