“Why did you not report your loss to the police?”
The visitor tried to speak, but his voice stuck in his throat. He seemed to be suffering great mental distress.
“Was it because you suspected some member of your family?”
Mr. Parks bowed his head in assent. Then, with an effort, he recovered his self-command.
“I am ashamed to confess,” he said, “that I did at first suspect my nephew, who lived with us. It is dreadful to think of it, but circumstances pointed to him. I am rejoiced to find that I was wholly wrong, and that the robbery was done by an organized gang of burglars.”
“Your identification of the large diamond,” said the inspector, “satisfies me that you are the owner. Yet, on account of its value in money, and its value to us as a clew, I wish to be doubly certain. Is there any way you can strengthen the identification?”
“Yes, indeed,” replied Parks, “my wife knows the stones as well as I. You see, the large diamond was the pendant of a necklace. The smaller ones, I believe, were in rings belonging to her, though, of course, I cannot be sure now that the settings have been removed.”
“Is Mrs. Parks at home?”
“No; she is in Stamford, Connecticut. She went there yesterday morning upon a visit. I have telegraphed her to return.”
“Have you received any answer?” asked Nick.