"I know what you are going to ask," returned Norton. "You are going to ask me why I did it. And I'm going to tell you. After I left you, the other day, I thought about it a long time. The more I thought, the more of a shame it seemed to me that a girl like that should be made a victim of her feelings. It wasn't so much what they have done to me that made me do it. I would have acted the same if it had been de Moche instead of Lockwood who was playing on her heart. I was afraid, to tell the truth, that you wouldn't tell her until it was too late. And she's too good to throw herself away and allow her fortune to be wasted by a couple of speculators."
"Very well," said Craig. "For the sake of argument, let us admit all that. What did you expect to accomplish by it?"
"Why—put an end to it, of course."
"But do you think she was going to accept as truth what you told her?
Would that be natural for one so high-strung?"
"Perhaps not—right away. But I supposed she would come to you—as I see she has, for you know about it. After that, it was only a question of time. It may have been a heroic remedy, but the disease was critical."
"Suppose," suggested Craig, "that, after all, he told her that he was there in the Museum, but that he did not get the dagger. And suppose that she believed it. What then?"
Norton looked up quickly. "Did he tell her that?"
"I am supposing that he did," repeated Craig, declining to place himself in a position which might lead to disclosing how he found out.
"Then I should say that he was a great deal cleverer than I gave him credit for being," returned Norton.
"Well, it's done now, and can't be undone. Have you found out anything about the de Moches?"