"Now, look here Miss Marchurst," said Naball rapidly, "it's no use beating about the bush--I know more than you think. You denied that you stole your own jewels, but I know you did, in order to pay the money embezzled by Malton. Lazarus's boy saw you go to his place during the week of the robbery, late at night. You did so in order to dispose of the jewels. The crescent I took from Villiers down Bourke Street was given to him by you as an accomplice; and I listened at that window to-day and heard Villiers say you were on the Russell Street premises on the night of the murder. Now, what do you say?"
Kitty, still on her feet, was deadly pale, but looked rapidly at Naball.
"You have made up a very clever case," she said quietly; "but entirely wrong--yes, entirely. I did not take my own jewels, as I told you before, therefore I was unable to pay the money for Mr. Malton. I did go to see Lazarus one night during the week of the robbery, in order to get some money, but was unable to do so. I never gave the crescent to Villiers, as he will tell you; and lastly, as you overheard him state, I was at Lazarus's on the night of the murder, but did not think it necessary to state so. I went there after I left the Bon-Bon, and made no secret of my doing so, as my coachman can inform you. I found the door locked, and no light inside, so thinking the old man had gone to bed, I came away, and went home; so, you see, your very clever case means nothing."
"Is this true?" asked Naball, turning to Villiers.
"Is what true?" asked that gentleman angrily.
"What she says."
"Some of it. Well, yes, most of it."
"You'd better go a little further," said Kitty quietly, "and say all of it. Did I give you the diamond crescent?"
"No, you didn't."
"Then, who did?" asked Naball pertinaciously.