Albert Pearson set his mind, set that rather heavy jaw, met all those shocked, accusing looks, and said stubbornly,

“Well-what about it?”

Vyner said, “Mr. Pearson, there are certain obvious reasons why this discovery is compromising for you. A substitution of stones such as has taken place is not everybody’s job. It could also only have been done by someone who had access to this room and to the late Mr. Paradine’s keys. You happen to combine both these qualifications. It is therefore my duty to ask you whether you have anything to say.”

Albert had himself in hand. He said in his earnest, boring voice,

“Quite so. But I am afraid I can’t help you. I know nothing at all about this.”

“The diamonds are gone, Mr. Pearson, to the tune of something like two thousand pounds. They didn’t go of themselves.”

“I suppose not, Superintendent. It doesn’t occur to you that Mr. Paradine himself may have had them replaced?”

“Are you going to say that you acted under his orders?”

“Certainly not. I am only saying you may find it difficult to prove that the work was not done by Mr. Paradine’s orders. You will naturally examine the cases for fingerprints, but I am afraid that you will be disappointed. You see, Mr. Paradine handled them so constantly himself. He liked having the jewels out and looking at them-a fact which would have made it very difficult for anyone to tamper with them.”

There was a pause before Vyner said,

“You are very well informed, Mr. Pearson.”

The large round glasses were turned upon him steadily. Albert said,

“What do you expect? I was his secretary.”

“Very well. I said there were obvious reasons for suspecting you. There are others not so obvious. Was it in your capacity as secretary that you put on the clock in Mr. Wray’s room by a quarter of an hour on Thursday night?”

A dull, ugly colour came up in patches under Albert’s skin. The skin was clammy. His hands lay in full view upon the table. It took all his will power to keep them there unclenched. He said in a rougher voice,

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do. The under housemaid, Polly Parsons, saw you come out of Mr. Wray’s room when she came up to turn down the beds. She was surprised to find that the clock in that room put the time at ten minutes past ten, whereas the clock in your own room made it five minutes short of the hour. Fifteen minutes’ difference, Mr. Pearson. You were very careful indeed to have an alibi for the time that Mr. Paradine was to be waiting in his study. He was waiting there to receive a confession. When you went in to say goodnight to him just after ten minutes to ten, Lane, who was immediately behind you, heard Mr. Paradine say, ‘Hullo, Albert-have you come to confess?’ You had no time to answer him because Lane came in with the tray. I suppose you were both there for a few minutes, which would bring the time right for you to run upstairs, alter the clock, and be down again to meet Mr. Wray and stay with him until that altered clock gave you your alibi by pointing to eight minutes past twelve. But it was then actually only seven minutes to-there was still seven minutes of the time which Mr. Paradine had set. You said goodnight to Mr. Wray, who went immediately to the bathroom and turned on the taps. You knew that Mr. Paradine would still be in the study-you had time to catch him there, and to answer the question which he had asked you. If you had a confession to make you had time to make it. If you did not mean to make a confession you had time to reach the terrace by way of any of those ground-floor windows. There is a print of yours upon the frame of the bathroom window. In common with everyone else in the house, you were aware that Mr. Paradine invariably went out on the terrace before he retired for the night. Someone waited there for him, Mr. Pearson. Someone pushed him over the parapet. It is my duty to tell you-”

Albert Pearson jerked back his chair so violently that it crashed. The patchy colour had gone from his face, the dark skin had a greenish tinge. He leaned over with his hands on the table, propping himself. If ever a man showed the extreme of fear, he showed it. But there was something else-something which made Miss Silver lay a hand on the Superintendent’s sleeve. He was about to step back in order to pass behind Mark, but the hand checked him. She said,

“Wait! He has something to say.”

Leaning there, sweating, shaking, Albert said it. He looked straight down the table over Miss Silver’s head to Frank Ambrose leaning tall and gloomy against the black marble of the mantelshelf.

“Mr. Ambrose-you can’t let him do it-you can’t let him arrest me! You can’t go on holding your tongue, and nor can I. I’m an innocent man, and you know it. If I was there, so were you, and we both saw what happened. You’re not going to stand there and hold your tongue! I’d have held mine if it hadn’t come to this, but I’m not holding it now-I couldn’t be expected to. If you don’t speak, I’m going to-and you may think it comes better from you.”

There was a startled silence. All the faces turned towards Frank Ambrose, whose face showed nothing except an impassive fatigue. When Superintendent Vyner said sharply, “Mr. Ambrose?” he straightened himself with an effort and answered the implied question.

“Yes-there is something that I must say. Pearson is right. I don’t think I can let you arrest him. You see, I came back again.”

Miss Silver rose to her feet, moved her chair to one side, and sat down again. By turning her head either to the right or to the left she could now see both Albert Pearson and Frank Ambrose. For the moment her attention was engaged by the latter.

Vyner said,

“In a statement made this afternoon, Mr. Ambrose, you said that you came back here to see Mr. Paradine at about half past ten. This is corroborated by Mrs. Wray, who heard your uncle address you by name as you came in. You say further that you remained for about twenty minutes and then left the house and went home. Is that correct?”

“Quite correct-except that I didn’t go home.”

“You left the house?”

“Yes, but I didn’t go home. I will try to explain. I intended to go home, but I didn’t want to get there too early. I was a good deal distressed at my stepfather’s frame of mind. I was afraid of a serious breach in the family. He had told me what he meant to do, and I could see that it was likely to lead to a breach. The night was then fine. I wanted to think, and I set out to walk the long way round by the stone bridge-it’s about three miles. When I got to my own door I looked at my watch. It was between a quarter and ten minutes to twelve. I didn’t feel like going in- I felt that I must go back and find out what had been happening here. I knew that my step-father would still be up, and I planned to go by way of the terrace and either catch him as he came out or knock on the glass door and get him to let me in. I went back by the foot-bridge and up the cliff path. In daylight I do it in seven minutes. I suppose I may have taken ten- I wasn’t hurrying. I had made up my mind that it would be better to wait till he came out on the terrace-he might have had someone in the study with him. I came up on to the end of the terrace and about half way along it. Then I stopped. The sky had clouded over behind me, but there was a little moonlight on the river. There was a good deal of diffused light. I could see the parapet against the line of the river, and I could distinguish the windows against the white wall of the house. I saw the window of my step-father’s bathroom thrown up. It is a sash window. Someone leaned out of the lower half.”

“Did you see who it was?”

“No. At the time I thought it might be Lane. It certainly wasn’t my step-father. There would be no mistaking his height.”