They were Winters and Moulton.
Without a word, taking advantage of the first shock of surprise, Kennedy had clapped a piece of chemical paper on the foreheads of Mrs. Moulton, then of Moulton, and on Muller’s. Oblivious to the rest of us, he studied the impressions in the full light of the counter.
Moulton was facing his wife with a scornful curl of the lip.
“I’ve been told of the paste replica—and I wrote Schloss that I’d shoot him down like the dog he is, you—you traitress,” he hissed.
She drew herself up scornfully.
“And I have been told why you married me—to show off your wicked jewels and help you in your—”
“You lie!” he cried fiercely. “Muller—some one—open this safe—whosever it is. If what I have been told is true, there is in it one new bag containing the necklace. It was stolen from Schloss to whom you sold my jewels. The other old bag, stolen from me, contains the paste replica you had made to deceive me.”
It was all so confused that I do not know how it happened. I think it was Muller who opened the safe.
“There is the new yellow bag,” cried Moulton, “from Schloss’ own safe. Open it.”
McLear had taken it. He did so. There sparkled not the real gems, but the replica.