Stone persisted in his belief that the pin was of value, and that in some way it would lead to the discovery of the jewels. He had read all of Ursula Pell's diary, and though it gave no definite assurance, there were hints in it that strengthened his theory. Before he had been in the Pell house twenty-four hours, he had learned all he could from the examination of the whole premises and the inspection of all the papers and books in Mrs. Pell's desk. He declared that the murderer was after the pin, and that, failing to find it, he had maltreated Ursula Pell in a fit of rage at his failure.
"She was of an irritating nature, you tell me," Stone said, "and it may well be that she not only refused to give up the pin, but teased and tantalized the intruder who sought it."
"But what use could the pin be as a clue to the jewels?" Lucille Darrel asked. "I can't imagine any theory that would explain that."
"I can imagine a theory," Stone responded, "but it is merely a theory—a surmise, rather; and it is so doubtful, at best, I'd rather not divulge it at present. But the pin must be found."
"I haven't found it, but I've a notion of which way to look," said Fibsy, who had just entered the room.
It was Mrs. Pell's sitting room, and Fleming Stone was still fingering some packets of papers in the desk.
"Out with it, Fibs, for I'm going over to see Mr. Bannard now, and I want all your information before I go."
So Fibsy told of what Sam had said, and of the snatch of song he had sung.
"Good enough as far as it goes," commented Stone, "but your source of knowledge seems a bit uncertain."
"That's just it," said Fibsy. "That's why I didn't tell you this last night. I thought I'd tackle friend Boobikins this morning and see if I could get more of the real goods. But, nixie. Sam says he has the pin, but he doesn't know where it is."