The inspector, who was rapidly glancing over the paper, nodded in an absent manner, being taken up with what he was reading. His face expressed amazement, and when he came to the end of the confession he looked round at the assembled company with an uneasy smile. Evidently he had fallen several degrees in his own estimation.
"She did it, sure enough;" he said, in a crestfallen manner; "but who would have suspected that harmless old woman? I put the blame on to everyone but her; and she must have chuckled at the mistakes I made. Well, well; even detectives are mortal, and liable to err; it is only in novels that they never go wrong. But then," added Drek, with sarcasm, "the detective of a novel knows as much as the author who writes about him."
"What was the motive for the crime?" asked Herne, abruptly; he was not interested in the inspector's feelings.
"Love of her grandson."
"Her grandson!" echoed Chaskin. "I did not know she had one!"
"Yes; Lucas Lovel is her grandson."
"Ah!" said Herne, thoughtfully; "I am not surprised. Lovel told me that he was half a gipsy; but I did not know he was so near of kin to Mother Jimboy. Why did he not admit the relationship?"
"He did--to me," said Paul, "but he did not think it necessary to make the announcement public. I don't blame him. Gran Jimboy was hardly a relative to be proud of."
"I wonder if Lovel knew that his grandmother was guilty," said Chaskin, doubtfully.
"No, sir; had he thought so he would not have accused you," cried Drek, with energy. "Besides," he continued, tapping the paper, "in this confession she declares that she told no one."