"Eh! did I?"
"Yes. You took it from your waistcoat pocket."
"Of course; to be sure, she wanted some money. Yes; I kept it apart because it was made money--won it off Malton at euchre."
"Malton!" repeated Naball in amazement; "are you sure?"
"Yes, quite. You know I'm generally unlucky at cards, and this is about the first fiver I've made, so I kept it just to bring me luck; but Caprice wanted money, so I handed over my luck to her. There's nothing wrong, eh?"
"Oh, dear, no," replied Naball; "not the slightest--only some professional business."
"Because I shouldn't like to get any poor devil into a row," said Mortimer. "Now, be off with you, I'm busy. Good-day."
"Good-day, good-day."
Naball departed, curiously perplexed in his feelings. He had never thought of Malton in the light of a possible criminal, and yet it was so very strange that this note should have been traced back to him. Then he remembered the conversation he had overheard between Mrs. Malton and Kitty concerning the embezzlement, when Kitty denied that she had paid the money.
"By Jove!" said Naball, a sudden thought striking him, "he was present at that supper, and was in a regular hole for want of money. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if he stole those diamonds to replace the money, and his wife's thanking Caprice was all a blind, and then this note--humph!--things look rather fishy, my friend."