I led the old fellow carefully across the room to a chair. He had never uttered a word.
He remained seated, gasping for breath with half-shut eyes, and his withered hands dancing up and down in his lap.
I made him drink a glass of wine, and after a little while he found his speech again.
"What right have you to sneak in upon me and take my property? The diamond is mine—I have honestly bought it—" and he stretched out his hands, as if to get it back.
"The diamond is stolen property," I said, "and will be delivered by me into the hands of the authorities. I am sorry I have been obliged to play a trick upon you to get it from you; but I understood at once that you wouldn't give it up of your own free will."
"I have bought it and paid for it, and it is not stolen property; your conduct will cost you dear, Mr. Monk."
"No more talk about that, if you please, Mr. Jurgens," I said firmly. "From whom did you buy the diamond?"
"I bought the diamond from Miss Frick, and she got it from her uncle."
The old man could not say another word, for my hands were round his throat. Only for a moment, however. I remembered myself, and let go my hold, but remained standing in front of him quivering with rage.
"What is it you dare say about the young lady, about Sigrid, about my—I mean about Mr. Frick's niece? Mr. Frick himself has given information of the robbery, and now you say that Miss Frick has sold the diamond to you; that is the same as saying that she has stolen it. You can thank your stars that you are an old man, otherwise—"