"And _now_ what have you to say?"

The Sepoy looked his questioner directly in the eyes, with a glance that was subtle in its insinuation and eloquent of collusive suggestion, and replied:

"The sapphire is still in my right waistcoat pocket, and the diamond in the left."

THE END

As the beautiful reader reached this singular conclusion, which came with an abruptness that indicated the decrepit imagination of the author and his overworked vocabulary, she looked up from the absurd vehicle of all this hectic style and incident and beheld in the eyes of her auditor a suggestion of the light that is indigenous to neither land nor sea.

To Dennis, who had in his composition the material of a poet, if not the finish, the melodious intonations of the widow had seemed like the incongruous orchestration of birds in the treetops to some minor tragedy among the denizens of the underbrush.

Her elocution was exquisite and provided the bizarre narrative with a refinement which contrasted with its crudities, like Valenciennes lace on a background of calico.

"Well," she said smilingly, after she had subjected his ingenuous glance to the rapid analysis of her intuition, with a satisfaction which it startled her to recognize, "what do you think of it?"

"Is that the end?" asked Dennis.

"Yes, it is the end."

With a shade of emphasis, intended by Dennis to indicate that the words of the reply of the widow were suggestive of other finalities which he did not like to consider, he said:

"That is no end; it looks to me as though the author has struck his limits."

"No," objected the widow, "I fancy that he has left the subject open so that the reader can solve the riddle in his own way."

"There is no riddle!" exclaimed Dennis.

"No?" inquired the widow; "and that splendid sapphire, that magnificent diamond to tempt the detective?"

"They will not tempt him," said Dennis with simple conviction and a degree of feeling that might lead one to suppose that he was an indispensable element in the situation. "He will recollect his professional pride; he will remember that he is a man."

"Oh!" exclaimed the widow with an indescribable intonation.

"Don't you think that I am right?" asked Dennis.

"Yes," replied his companion with a pronounced emphasis on the personal pronoun which followed, "yes, _you_ are right"; and as she considered the frank revelation of character in his reply and contrasted it with the possible disclosures of similar situations among the majority of men she knew, she added:

"I am glad that we have read the story."