"Doris, what are you saying? You don't for a moment imagine that
Bullard—"
"Let me go on while I can. It's not easy to make my story coherent, so be patient… Something most awful happened last night. You know I was at the Lesters' dance, but I only stayed an hour—I got so worried about father. I pleaded a headache, and they got a taxi for me. It would be nearly eleven when I left. The fog was lifting. Just as the cab was reaching home I looked out and saw a dreadful-looking man coming from our door. He stared at me so horribly, so suspiciously, that I waited in the cab till he was well away. I had a latch-key and let myself in quietly. I went into the drawing-room. The lights were on, but the fire was low and no one was there. Mother had spoken of going early to bed, and I thought she must have done so. I went along to the library. There was no sound, but as I opened the door I heard a hoarse voice, though what it said I did not catch. It was followed by a smash. I drew back the curtain—you know how it hangs across the corner—and I saw—"
"Doris," the young man cried, "you're distressing yourself—"
"I must tell you, or go mad. Mr. Bullard was sitting at the table with his back to me. Father and mother were standing on the other side. They were just ghastly. On the table was a dark green roundish box, open, and some trays of diamonds. There were diamonds on the floor, too." Doris paused and wet her lips. "When I was a young girl," she continued, "before we came home, you know, Christopher Craig took me into his house one afternoon to give me some sweets, as he often did, and after bidding me not tell anybody, he showed me a dark green box, and in it were trays of diamonds. I never forgot it."
"But my dear girl—"
"Almost at once mother ordered me to go away. I went up to my room, and thought till I began to understand. I asked myself questions. What were those sudden journeys to Scotland for? Why was father so nervous afterwards? Who was the dreadful-looking man I saw? What made father and mother look so—so awful when I found them in the library?"
A heartsick feeling possessed Teddy, while he said: "But, Doris, all those apparently ugly things may be capable of explanation."
"Wait! … Of course I could not sleep. I didn't know what to do with myself. At three in the morning I went down to the library for a book, though I knew I should never read it…. And before the cold fire he—father was sitting alone, like a—a broken man. Oh, Teddy, you always liked father, didn't you?" Ere he could reply she proceeded: "He was so lonely, poor father! I loved him better than ever I had done…. And after a while he told me things—things I can't tell even to you. But the box of diamonds was Christopher Craig's—now Alan's. Father would not blame Mr. Bullard more than himself—but I know…. And now here is a strange thing: all those diamonds are false, and of little value compared with the real. And, do you know, father was glad of that, though it means ruin. Father supposes it was a trick of Caw's—Caw was Mr. Craig's servant—I used to like him—and he was really very fond of me when I was a little girl—and so I thought of a plan." She sighed.
"Am I to hear your plan, Doris?"
"Oh, it can never be carried out now. It was just this: I would make a journey to Scotland, with the box in my dressing-case—it's there now; but let me go on. Then I would hire a car for a day's run round the coast, and I would call at Mr. Craig's house—quite casually, of course—just to see how my old acquaintance, Caw, was getting on. That would be—or would have been—the most natural thing in the world. Of course Caw would ask me into the house, and would offer to get me tea. And while he was getting it—well, I know where the box used to be kept—"