"This Ebers," continued Fullaway, turning to Van Koon, "was a young fellow, Swiss, German, something of that sort, who acted as valet to me and to some other men here in this hotel for a time. I needn't go into too many details now, but there's no doubt that he knew, and was in touch with, Lisette Beaurepaire, and Miss Lennard positively identifies him as the man who met her and Lisette at Hull, and represented himself as Lisette's brother. Now then, Ebers—we'll stick to that name for the sake of clearness—was in and out of my rooms a good deal, of course. And what I want to know now, Mrs. Marlow, is—do you think he got access to our letters, papers, books? Could he find out, for instance, that I was engaged in this deal between the Princess Nastirsevitch and Mr. Delkin, and that Miss Lennard had bought the Pinkie Pell pearls? Think!"
Mrs. Marlow had evidently done her thinking; she replied without hesitation.
"If he did, or could, it would be through your own carelessness, Mr. Fullaway," she said. "You know that I am ridiculously careful about that sort of thing! From the time I come here in the morning—ten-o'clock—until I leave at five, no one has any chance of seeing our papers, or our letter book, or our telegram-copies book. They are always on my desk while I am in the office, and when I go downstairs to lunch I lock them up in the safe. But—you're not careful! How many times have I come in the morning, and found that you've taken these things out of the safe over-night and left them lying about for anybody to see? Dozens of times!"
"I know—I know!" admitted Fullaway with a groan. "I'm frightfully careless—always was. I quite admit it, Mrs. Marlow, quite!"
"Of course," continued Mrs. Marlow, in precise, even tones, "of course if you left the letter-book lying round, and the book in which the duplicates of all our telegrams and cablegrams are kept, too—why, this Ebers man could easily read what he liked for himself when he was in here of a morning before you got up. He was in and out a great deal, that's certain. And as regards those two affairs, the documents we have about them are pretty plain, Mr. Fullaway. Anybody of average intelligence could find out in ten minutes from our letter-book and telegram-book that we negotiated the sale of the Pinkie Pell pearls to Miss Lennard, and that Mr. James Allerdyke was bringing here a valuable parcel of jewels from Russia. And," concluded Mrs. Marlow quietly, "from what I saw of him, Ebers was a smart man."
Van Koon, who had been listening attentively to all this, turned a half-whimsical, half-reproving glance on Fullaway, who sat in a contrite attitude, drumming his fingers on the polished table.
"I guess you're a very careless individual, my friend," he said, shaking his head. "If you will leave your important papers lying about, as this lady says you're in the habit of doing, what do you expect? Now, you've been wondering who got wind of this jewel deal, and here's the very proof that you gave every chance to this Ebers to acquaint himself with it! And what I'd like to know now, Fullaway, is this—what use do you suppose this young fellow made of the information he acquired? That seems to me to be the point."
"Yes!" exclaimed Allerdyke suddenly. "That is the point!"
Fullaway smote the table.
"The thing's obvious!" he cried. "He sold his information to a gang. There must have been—I mean must be—a gang. It's utterly impossible that all this could have been worked by one man. The man we've heard of in connection with the deaths of Lisette Beaurepaire and of Ebers himself is only one of the combination. I'm as sure of that as I am that I see you. But—who are they?"