"Why—I thought——" he remarked and paused.
Meriel did not pretend to misunderstand the swiftly checked exclamation. She shook her head sadly.
"I am a very unhappy girl, Mr. Flurscheim," she said, and despite her efforts tears mounted to her eyes.
"There! There! There! Say no more," interrupted the connoisseur hastily. "Misunderstandings will occur between young people."
Meriel again shook her head. "Yesterday Mr. Hora told me something regarding himself which I could not have suspected; part of what he told me concerned you, Mr. Flurscheim, and—so he has gone."
"Then the miniature did not come into his possession by accident!" ejaculated Flurscheim. "And all the time I was hoping that it had."
"No," said Meriel. "It was no accident." The words slipped from her. Flurscheim realised that she knew all about the robbery. He began to question her eagerly, but she would answer him nothing. Already she had been betrayed into a confidence which she regretted, and when he realised her difficulty, he ceased to ask for details.
"It makes no difference in my intentions," he said. "Whether Mr. Hora was himself the burglar who stole my picture and the miniatures, or whether he was only one of the parties who handled them afterwards, would make no difference to my course of action. If he is warned immediately there will be time for him to clear out of the way. If not——" He shrugged his shoulders expressively.
"But why?" asked Meriel.
Flurscheim repeated the story Jessel had told him.