Bristow leaned forward in his chair.
"Mr. Withers," he asked, "as a matter of fact, did you ever know that your wife had pawned her jewels?"
"Well," he said, as if making an admission, "she would never confess it to me. I assumed it from the fact that on both occasions the jewels were missing for a good while. They were certainly not in her possession. She couldn't produce them when called upon to do so."
"I see. Now, Mr. Withers, what did you do yesterday, all day yesterday, after reaching here?"
"I went to the Brevord and registered under the name of Waring. After I had had breakfast, I went straight to Abrahamson's pawnshop. It's the only pawnshop in town. I told him I was looking for some stolen jewelry and I expected that an attempt might be made to pawn it with him. He agreed to let me wait there, well concealed by the heavy hangings at the back of his shop. I spent the day there except for a few minutes in the afternoon when I went out for a quick lunch."
"Yes? Did you find out anything?"
Once more Withers found it hard to speak.
"Yes"; he said finally. "A man came in and pawned one of my wife's rings. It had a setting of three diamonds. It was worth about seven hundred and fifty dollars, I should say. Abrahamson let him have only a hundred on it."
"Why only a hundred?"
"I had asked him to do that, so as to prove that the man was a thief—you know, willing to take anything offered to him."