“That must be found out. Then the rigamarole the clairvoyant told was true, about a man coming into the studio——”
“Yes, it was all true. I was the man.”
Barry’s voice was infinitely sad and despairing. Joyce looked at him pityingly. His white face was drawn and his eyes were full of grief.
“I think, Mr. Stannard, if all you’ve told me is true, I must ask you to go with me to Headquarters.”
“I am ready,” said Barry, simply, and the two men went out.
XVII
Alan Ford
Joyce went up to Natalie’s room and found the girl sitting up in bed trying to eat some of the dainty breakfast a maid had just brought her. A cap of lace and tiny rosebuds confined the gold hair, and a breakfast jacket of pale blue brocade was round her shoulders.
“Joyce,” she said, staring at her with big blue eyes, “where did those jewels come from?”
“I don’t know, Natalie. It’s the most mysterious thing I ever heard of. But listen, dear, I’ve something to tell you. Barry has confessed——”
“What!” Natalie almost shrieked the word. “What do you mean?”