"No. I have nothing that any thief would care to take," returned the girl; "only this gold chain and this battered old locket which contains my dead mother's picture, and I always wear this about my neck day and night."
Mrs. Varrick asked the same question of every one present—"if they had lost anything during the night"—and each one answered in a positive negative.
"Then it seems that the thief was content with taking my diamond bracelet," she said, sharply.
Suddenly the housekeeper, who had been in Mrs. Varrick's service since she had come there a bride, spoke out:
"I am sure nobody would object, ma'am, if the trunks and boxes of every one in the house were to be examined."
Mrs. Varrick turned to the housekeeper.
"I should not like to say that I suspect any one," she answered. "I have sent for one of the most experienced detectives in the city, and am expecting him to arrive at any moment. In the meantime, I desire that you will all remain in this room."
Miss Duncan had maintained throughout an attitude of polite indifference. Now she realized what that visit to Jessie Bain's room, in the dead of the night, meant.
Then there commenced the greatest battle between Good and Evil that ever was fought in a human heart. Should she save her rival, the girl whom Hubert Varrick loved, or by her silence doom her to life-long misery? While she was battling, Jessie smiled, murmuring in a low voice: "Isn't it too bad, Miss Duncan, that Hubert—Mr. Varrick, I mean—should be away from home just at this critical time?"
Miss Duncan's face hardened, and all the kindliness in her nature suddenly died out.