"Yes, miss, your pearl. I took it home and put it in my box. Jemima 'ere found it, and would 'ave it as I got it from you."
"No, no; I gave it to Zara."
"There y'are. D'ye believe me now, Jemima?"
"Oh yes, yes," whimpered the little woman, whose jealousy had brought about this catastrophe. "I believe you, Jeremiah; indeed I do."
"You are all mad!" shrieked Mayne, haggard and pale. "I know nothing of Zara or any pearl."
"You do!" thundered Carwell. "You saw Zara on that night; from her you got the pearl you bribed Slade with; you strangled the girl. I believe you killed your wife!"
"His wife!" said Pharaoh, darting forward. "Is he Zara's husband?"
"Here is the certificate," replied Jack, handing it to him. "That seems to say so."
"His wife!" wailed a voice, as Pharaoh read the paper. And at the door stood Rachel with outstretched arms.
"Rachel!" cried the wretched young man; and, in a wild effort to escape her reproaches, he again made for the door. Hardly had he laid his hand on the latch when Pharaoh threw down the certificate and sprang on him. Rachel shrieked and rushed forward as the two men swayed and swung with clenched teeth, but her father caught her in his arms and forced her back into his chair. Mrs. Slade fell on her knees with a whimper, and Jack and the policeman endeavoured to part Mayne and the gipsy. At that moment they saw the glitter of a knife. One flash, and the weapon was driven home. Pharaoh withdrew the knife and tossed it at Rachel's feet. His victim was prone on the floor, a spout of blood gushing from his breast.