"Besides," I continued, "you need not be afraid that your evidence will be of such fatal significance. We have already got the diamond back, and the guilty party arrested. It is Evelina, Miss Frick's maid. Circumstantial evidence is so strong that a confession is unnecessary."
"Well," said Mr. Howell, quietly, "I can just as well tell you now what I know, as later on. It was on the afternoon when the diamond disappeared, after the old crank, Jurgens, had dined at Villa Ballarat. Soon after we had had some coffee in the museum I went up to my room and loaded some cartridges, for I was going to Osterdal for some shooting, you know."
"Yes; I know what took place in the house that afternoon. Please go on."
"Well, when I was ready with the cartridges, I went down into the garden to smoke a cigar. The other people had gone to their rooms, I suppose, for I did not see any of them. As I went by the museum it seemed to me that the door wasn't shut, and when I touched it it slid right up. You know it is a large iron door, but so well balanced and oiled that it moves quite noiselessly. Well, I glanced into the museum, and there I saw a lady standing before the cupboard on the opposite side of the room, with her back toward me. With one hand she held up the iron lid, and in the other she had an article which she seemed to have just taken from the case, and which she was examining. It did not occur to me to think it was anybody but Miss Frick; I thought I recognized the light spring jacket with dark braid."
I looked up suddenly and met Mr. Howell's gaze; his eyes did not impress me pleasantly, and it appeared to me that their expression was dark and cunning.
"Continue," I said hurriedly, and, I believe, rather roughly.
"Well, you know, Mr. Monk, that I am very fond of photography, and that I always go about with a little snap-shot camera. You know it, of course,—we have often had fun at Villa Ballarat photographing people when they least expected it!"
I nodded.
"I had the apparatus with me, and so it struck me that I would photograph Miss Frick as she stood there, without her knowing it. I went hurriedly and softly inside the door, took the photograph, and went out again without her seeing me. She stood quite still, as if she was wondering what she should do with what she had in her hand."
The Englishman paused, as if to give me an opportunity to speak. But as I did not even look up, but went on drawing figures on the paper before me, with as careless an expression as possible, he continued:—