Burke and the Burmese had been afforded more time than I in which to speculate upon the substitution of the false for the genuine stone, and Burke had not gone inconsiderately to the Page place on Friday night, but, quite the reverse, to prosecute a definite plan of search. How near he came to the goal I did n't appreciate till later.
The discovery by the Burmese that the soap contained merely the paste replica, made them suspect Burke of duplicity. Hence, after Fanshawe and I lost them Friday morning, the Burman had continued to dog the ex-secretary until relieved some time during the day by the misshapen dwarf, who, in turn, had followed him to the Page place after nightfall.
The mute—whose ugly visage Genevieve had seen at the alcove curtains—had attacked him, perhaps in the belief that Burke had found the gem, and that he had been deceiving them respecting it.
It was this struggle in the bedroom which had created such a tumult, frightening Burke within an inch of his life, and driving him pellmell away and to his bed, where he had remained until the following Tuesday. Both had utterly vanished by the time I effected an entrance to the house.
"I can truthfully say, Burke," I confided, "that I never underestimated your intelligence. You did not go blindly to the Page place Friday night. You reasoned that, if Mr. Page displayed the genuine ruby to Maillot, and if the jewel-case contained only the replica when you robbed the safe an hour or so later, why, the substitution must have occurred somewhere between the library table, where Maillot and Page had been sitting, and the safe. Consequently you were encouraged by the assurance that the scope of your search would be restricted.
"I believe you argued correctly. And to keep you out of further mischief, or from setting your precious Burmese upon me again, why, you may stay here a while and think over it."
Despite his protestations, when I left headquarters the last glimpse I had of him was through the bars of a cell door.
I went directly to the Fluette residence to inform Genevieve that her apprehensions and uncertainties had at last crystallized into dread reality. I shall not dwell upon this wretched conference; it is quite enough to say that the poor girl was torn with grief, yet not wholly convinced.
"Knowles,"—she was clinging to my arm, her voice hoarse and distressed,—"it is too terrible—too monstrous for belief. I can not do it—can't believe it—unless I hear the words from Uncle Alfred's own lips. He is here now; he did n't go down-town to-day. The horrible charge has been made—confront him with it. He's up-stairs with Aunt Clara."
"Very well," I quietly returned. "You go and ask him, as calmly as possible, to come down to his study. Don't alarm Miss Belle or her mother; it may not be necessary."