"Absolutely," returned Billy, grimly.
"I feel that it is partly my fault," said the girl, in a broken voice. "I never dreamed, of course, that this man was in want of money. And I told him a foolish story about how some jade beads I once had were snatched from my neck during a séance like this—by the thing that came. Of course—it wasn't true. It was a joke. But I told it just to frighten him. And I suppose he believed it, and thought he would do the same." She buried her face in her hands.
"Well, are any of the pearls missing? If so, where are they?" The doctor's question brought Paul Harker to his feet.
"I don't even know how many my dear wife had!" he cried.
"The point seems immaterial," said Billy, quietly. "Since I seem to be the object of suspicion, I should be obliged if you would search me, Doctor."
With a shrug of his shoulders the doctor complied. Methodically he ran through every pocket; than he turned to Paul Harker.
"There are no pearls on this gentleman," he said, curtly.
"Ah, but he left the room. He left the room to telephone for you. He might have put them in his overcoat."
"Then we'll send for the overcoat," remarked the doctor, ringing the bell. "With your permission, that is, sir." He turned to Merton.
"By all means," said Billy. "Only I would like to state, should they be found there, that I am not the only person who has left the room since the tragedy. Mr. Harker has also been downstairs."