She could not prevent a shudder. “I cannot take it,” she protested. “Can you not turn it over to the Department of State and let the Government decide as to its disposition?”
“An excellent suggestion.” Trenholm, after replacing the diamond in its hiding place, secreted the watch carefully in an inside pocket. “Stand back, Roberts,” as the physician made an effort to wrench it from him. “You will go with the constable and Riley, but first,” his voice deepened, “how was it that you, supposedly a reputable physician and a man of honor, joined Zybinn in his endeavor to steal the Paltoff diamond?”
Roberts turned sullenly, the veneer gone; and a criminal, crafty and sinister-eyed, faced them.
“I am a drug addict,” he admitted. “I became so two years ago after a nervous breakdown. I was ship’s surgeon on the transport with Paul. He sent for me and I removed the diamond from the wound in his leg. I was straight then. My practice had fallen off; I was, in fact, a ruined man when, on a visit to Doctor Nash, I met Zybinn. He wormed Paul’s secret out of me, and promised, if I would steal the jewel, to give me half the value of the diamond. I knew he had money, for he had deposited a large fortune in a bank in Toronto before fleeing from Russia after a quarrel with Lenin. Zybinn pointed out that the diamond was too celebrated to be negotiable in the usual channels, and that, cut into smaller stones, it would lose most of its value, and so I agreed to his terms.”
“And why the stamp code?” asked Trenholm, as Roberts came to an abrupt halt.
“Doctor Nash had employed me to travel with Paul and keep him under observation, and it was thought wiser for Zybinn not to communicate directly with me,” Roberts turned to Miriam. “A glass of water, please.” Riley got it for him, before Miriam could move, from the pitcher placed for Mrs. Nash’s use on the bedstand.
Roberts looked over at Betty, a malignant grin distorting his face.
“Zybinn used you as a cat’s paw,” he said. “Through you he gained an intimate knowledge of Paul’s habits, his mode of life, and, using his remarkable powers of deduction, twice located the hiding place of the diamond—in each instance too late, for Paul’s capricious habits, his secretiveness, yes,” with grudging admiration, “his cleverness balked us. And so did you,” wheeling on Mrs. Nash with a suddenness which made her jump. “I tried to secure the thirteenth letter on Tuesday night, but Martha detected me, and last night you pulled off my disguise.”
“Why did you risk discovery?” asked Mrs. Nash. “Why not have telegraphed to Zybinn for the message on his last letter?”
“I telephoned from Washington on Tuesday and was told he had died from apoplexy on Monday afternoon—his third stroke,” added Roberts. “That message on his letter to Paul was Zybinn’s last word to me. He thought I was still here at Abbott’s Lodge.”