"I never thought of that," she responded. "All I thought of was getting away from Cheyne Court. He said then that all the countryside was looking for me as I was accused of having murdered that awful creature whom I had believed to be my aunt. I wanted to confront them, but he wouldn't let me go. At last he said if I would give him my gold scarf, it would be the means of setting me free...."
A little one-sided smile crept up Cleek's face as he listened to the girlish recital.
"The clever devil!" he ejaculated. "He went straight back to Blake, not knowing perhaps that the jewels were already in their possession and took the scarf as a proof that he had Lady Margaret in his power...."
Then he turned on his heel and faced the prisoner.
"Come, Blake, own up—the truth. It will serve you best."
The prisoner scowled blackly and stared into Cleek's eyes with hatred in his own.
"What's the good?" he muttered, angrily. "You seem to know it all just as if you were there. It's true enough. I went to Sam, who had no business to have acted without me, and told him I'd got the girl and would let on to the police if he didn't give me a share. I didn't know it wasn't the old girl herself, till the day before when I followed them up to London, then I recognized Sammy. Considering I had been away in Paris for over a year planning how to get hold of them jewels, and even joined up with that there crowd of Hindoo niggers, in order to have assistance—they only wanted the 'Purple Emperor,' said I could have what I liked if I helped them to get that, without their having to take life—well, it isn't surprising that I didn't mean to be bested by Sam and his pals."
Cleek nodded as if in approval, though it was really the proof of the correctness of his own theories that caused the unconscious movement.
"But the law was one too many for both of you, Jimmy my lad," he interrupted, "and you came to grief at last. But what I want to know is how did you get into Cheyne Court?"