"That is the one who is in custody," he observed at last. "The other, that is Franklin, has gone scot-free thus far, I hear."
"If you do not know either of these gentlemen," he insinuated at last, "how did you come to leave the rings at their office?"
"I knew their names--I inquired my way--It is all a dream now. Please, please do not ask me questions. O doctor! do you not see I cannot bear it?"
He smiled--I never could smile like that under any circumstances--and softly patted her hand.
"I see it makes you suffer," he acknowledged, "but I must make you suffer in order to do you any good. If you would tell me all you know about these rings----"
"I might hope to restore you to health and happiness. You know with what they are associated?"
"And that they are an invaluable clue to the murderer of Mrs. Van Burnam?"
"How then, my child, did _you_ come to have them?"
Her head, which was rolling to and fro on the pillow, stopped and she gasped, rather than uttered:
He knew this, yet it was terrible to hear it from her lips; she was so young and had such an air of purity and innocence. But more heartrending yet was the groan with which she burst forth in another moment, as if impelled by conscience to unburden herself from some overwhelming load:
"I took them; I could not help it; but I did not keep them; you know that I did not keep them. I am no thief, doctor; whatever I am, I am no thief."
"Yes, yes, I see that. But why take them, child? What were you doing in that house, and whom were you with?"
She threw up her arms, but made no reply.
A short silence, then a low "No," evidently wrung from her by the deepest anguish.
Mr. Gryce heaved a sigh; the struggle was likely to be a more serious one than he had anticipated.
"Miss Oliver," said he, "more facts are known in relation to this affair than you imagine. Though unsuspected at first, it has secretly been proven that the man who accompanied the woman into the house where the crime took place, was _Franklin_ Van Burnam."
A low gasp from the bed, and that was all.
"You know this to be correct, don't you, Miss Oliver?"
"O must you ask?" She was writhing now, and I thought he must desist out of pure compassion. But detectives are made out of very stern stuff, and though he looked sorry he went inexorably on.