"Ruth! But tell me. I am quite in the dark."
"It was the night when—well, you know the night. It was after Mr. Steel returned home from his visit to 219, Brunswick Square—"
"You mean 218, Ruth."
"It doesn't matter, because he knows pretty well all about it by this time. It would have been far better for us if we hadn't been quite so clever. It would have been far wiser to have taken Mr. Steel entirely into our confidence. Oh, oh, Enid, if we had only left out that little sentiment over the cigar-case! Then we should have been all right."
"Dearest girl, my time is limited. I've got Reginald held up for the time, but at any moment he may escape from his bondage. What about the cigar-case?"
"Well, Mr. Steel took it home with him. And when he got home he found a man nearly murdered lying in his conservatory. That man was conveyed to the Sussex County Hospital, where he still lies in an unconscious state. On the body was found a receipt for a gun-metal cigar-case set with diamonds."
"Good gracious, Ruth, you don't mean to say—"
"Oh, I do. I can't quite make out how it happened, but that same case that we—that Mr. Steel has—has been positively identified as one purchased from Walen by the injured man. There is no question about it. And they have found out about Mr. Steel being short of money, and the £1,000, and everything."
"But we know that that cigar-case from Lockhart's in North Street was positively—"
"Yes, yes. But what has become of that? And in what strange way was the change made? I tell you that the whole thing frightens me. We thought that we had hit upon a scheme to solve the problem, and keep our friends out of danger. There was the American at Genoa who volunteered to assist us. A week later he was found dead in his bed. Then there was Christiana's friend, who disappeared entirely. And now we try further assistance in the case of Mr. Steel, and he stands face to face with a terrible charge. And he has found us out."