CHAPTER XI. WHAT NABALL OVERHEARD.

It is said that "Counsel comes in the silence of the night," so next morning Mr. Naball, having been thinking deeply about his curious discovery, decided upon his plan of action. It was evidently no good to go straight to Caprice and show her the diamond crescent, as, judging from her general conduct with regard to the robbery, she would deny that the jewel belonged to her.

The detective therefore determined to ascertain from some independent person whether the jewel was really the property of Caprice, and after some consideration came to the conclusion that Fenton would be the most likely individual to supply the necessary information.

"He's her lover," argued Naball to himself as he walked along the street, "so he ought to know what jewellery she's got. I dare say he gave her a lot himself; but, hang it," he went on disconsolately, "I don't know why I'm bothering about this affair; nothing will come of it; for some reason best known to herself, Caprice won't let me follow up the case. I can't make it out; either she stole the jewels herself, or Villiers did, and she won't prosecute him. Ah! women are rum things," concluded the detective with a regretful sigh.

He had by this time arrived at The Never-say-die Insurance Office, and on entering the door found himself in a large, lofty apartment, with a long shiny counter at one end, and a long shiny clerk behind it. This individual, who looked as if he were rubbed all over with fresh butter, so glistening was his skin, received him with a stereotyped smile, and asked, in a soft oily voice, what he was pleased to want?

"Take my card up to Mr. Fenton," said Naball, producing his pasteboard from an elegant card-case, "and tell him I want to see him for a few minutes."

The oleaginous clerk disappeared, and several other clerks looked up from their writing at the detective with idle curiosity. Naball glanced sharply at their faces, and smiled blandly to himself as he recognised several whom he had seen in very equivocal places. Little did the clerks know that this apparently indolent young man knew a good deal about their private lives, and was anticipating coming into contact with several of them in a professional manner.

Presently the oily clerk returned with a request to Mr. Naball to walk into the manager's office, which that gentleman did in a leisurely manner; and the shiny clerk, closing the door softly, returned to his position behind the shiny counter.

Mr. Fenton sat at a handsome writing-table, which was piled up with disorderly papers, and looked sharply at the detective as he took a seat.

"Well, Naball," he said, in his strident voice, "what is the matter? Can't give you more than five minutes--time's money here. Yes, sir."

"Five minutes will do," replied the detective, tapping his varnished boots with his cane. "It's about that robbery."

"Oh, indeed!" Mr. Fenton laid down his pen, and, leaning back in his chair, prepared to listen.

"Yes! I've been looking after Villiers."

"Quite right," said the American. "That's the man I suspect--fixed up anything, eh?"

"Not yet, but I was down Little Bourke Street last night in an opium den, to which Villiers goes, and I found this."

Fenton took the diamond crescent, which Naball held out to him, and looked at it closely.

"Humph!--set in silver--rather toney," he said; "well, is this part of the swag?"

"That's what I want to find out," said Naball quickly. "You know the peculiar way in which Caprice has treated this robbery."

"I know she's a fool," retorted Fenton politely. "She ought to go right along in this matter; but for some silly reason, she won't."

"No; and that's why I've come to you. I'm going down to see her when I leave here, and it's likely she'll deny that this belongs to her. Now, I want your evidence to put against her denial. Is this the property of Caprice?"

Fenton examined the jewel again and nodded.

"Yes, sir," he replied, with a nasal drawl, "guess I gave her this."

"I thought you'd recognise it," said Naball, replacing the jewel in his pocket; "so now I'll go and see her, in order to find out how Villiers got hold of it."

"Stole it, I reckon?"

"I'm not so sure of that," replied the detective coolly. "I don't believe Caprice cares two straws about Villiers being the husband of Madame Midas. If he stole the diamonds, she'd lag him as sure as fate; no, as I told you before, she's got a finger in this pie herself, and Villiers is helping her."

"But the diamonds were stolen on that night," objected the American.

"I know that--don't you remember you told me that Caprice had an interview in the supper room with Villiers? Well, I believe she went upstairs, took the diamonds, and gave them to Villiers to dispose of."

"For what reason?"

"That's what I'd like to find out," retorted Naball. "She evidently wanted a sum of money for something; now, are you aware that she wanted money?"

"Why, she's always wanting money."

"No doubt--but this must have been a specially large sum?"

Fenton glanced keenly at Naball's impassive face, drummed impatiently with his fingers on the table, then evidently made up his mind.

"Tell you what," he said rapidly, "she did want a large sum of money--fact is, a friend of hers got into a fix, and his wife went howling to her, so she said she would replace the money, and I've no doubt sold her diamonds to do so."

"I thought it was something like that," said Naball coolly; "but why the deuce couldn't she sell her diamonds openly without all this row?"

"Guess you'd better ask her," said Fenton, rising to his feet; "she won't let me meddle with the affair, so I can't do anything--if she's fool enough to lose or sell five thousand pounds' worth of diamonds, I can't help it: and now, sir, the five minutes--" glancing at his watch.

"Are up long ago," replied Naball, rising to his feet. "Well, I'm curious about this case, and I'm going to get at it somehow, so at present I'm off down to see Caprice about this," and he tapped his breast-pocket, where the jewel was placed.

"You won't get anything out of her," said Fenton yawning, "if all you surmise is true."

"I don't care what she says," observed Naball, going to the door. "I can discover all I want from the expression of her face when she knows what I've got, and where I got it."

With this Naball disappeared, and Fenton, returning to his desk, flung himself back in his chair.

"Why the devil won't she prosecute?" he muttered savagely to himself. "Guess she knows more about this robbery than she says, but even then--confound it, I'm mixed."

Having come to this unsatisfactory conclusion, Mr. Fenton went on with his work, and dismissed all thoughts of the diamond robbery from his mind.

Meanwhile, Naball was on his way down to Toorak, meditating over the revelation made to him by Fenton about Caprice's sudden fit of generosity.

"I didn't think she was so tender-hearted," murmured Naball, full of perplexity; "she must have had some strong reason for selling her diamonds. I wonder who the man is?--and the wife called. Humph! this is quite a new game for Caprice."

When he left the station, and walked to the house, instead of ringing the front-door bell, he strolled round the corner to the verandah, on which the drawing-room windows looked out. He did this because--wondering if Villiers was concerned in the robbery--he wanted to see the window by which he entered the dining-room on the night of the robbery. Soft-footed and stealthy in his motions, the detective made no noise, and was just pausing on the edge of the verandah, wondering whether he would go forward or return to the front door, when he heard Kitty's voice in the drawing-room raised in a tone of surprise.

"Mrs. Malton!"

"Hullo!" said Naball to himself, "that's the name of Fenton's assistant manager. Now, I wonder what his wife is calling here about? I'll wait and hear."

So the detective, filled with curiosity, took up his position close to one of the windows, so that he could hear every word that was said, but, of course, was unable to see anything going on inside. He commenced to listen, out of mere curiosity, but soon the conversation took a turn which interested him greatly, and, to his mind, threw a great deal of light on the diamond robbery.

"Why have you called to see me again?" asked Kitty, in a cold tone.

"Because I want to thank you for saving my husband," replied Mrs. Malton. "They told me you were busy, but I have waited in the next room for half-an-hour to see you. My husband is safe."

"I congratulate you--and him," answered Caprice, in an ironical tone. "It is to be hoped Mr. Evan Malton won't embezzle any more money."

Naball, outside, could hardly refrain from giving a low whistle. So this was the man mentioned by Fenton--his own familiar friend--and Kitty Marchurst had helped him. In Heaven's name, why?

"It is due to your kindness that he is safe," said Mrs. Malton, in a faltering tone; "you replaced the money."

"Not at all," said Caprice; "I never replaced a sixpence."

"But you did, you did!" said Mrs. Malton vehemently, falling on her knees before Kitty; "every penny of the money has been paid back, and only you could have done it."

"I did not pay a penny, I tell you," said Caprice; "still, I have had something to do with it."

"I knew it! I knew it!" cried the poor wife, kissing the hand of the actress. "May God bless you for doing this good action."

"I wouldn't have done it had it not been for the sake of your child," said Kitty coldly.

"Wonderful," thought the listener; "Kitty Marchurst has a heart."

"Good-bye, good-bye!" said Mrs. Malton, rising to her feet. "I may never see you again."

"I've no doubt of that," replied Caprice, with a cynical laugh; "you've got all you wanted, so now you leave me."

"No, no!" cried the other woman vehemently. "I am not ungrateful. I will visit you if you will let me. I am sorry for you. I pity you."

"Keep your pity and your visits for some one else--I want neither."

"But your heart?"

"My heart is stone; it was hardened long, long ago. Leave me--I have done all I can for you--now go."

Mrs. Malton made a step forward, and, catching Kitty in her arms, kissed her.

"God bless you!" she cried, in a low voice, and as she kissed her she felt a hot tear fall on her hand. It was Caprice who wept, but, with a stifled sigh, she pushed Mrs. Malton away.

"You are a good woman," she said hoarsely. "Go! go! and if you ever think of me, let it be as one who, however bad her life, did at least one good action."

She sank back into a chair, covering her face with her hands, while Mrs. Malton, with a look of pity on her face, and a low "God bless you," left the room.

Meanwhile, the detective outside was smitten with a kind of remorse at having overheard this pathetic scene.

"I've found out what Caprice wanted the money for," he muttered; "but I'm sorry for her--very sorry. I never knew before she was a woman--I thought she was a fiend."

Kitty, drying her eyes, arose from her seat and dragged herself slowly across the room to the window near which the detective was standing. He heard her coming and tried to escape, and in another moment Kitty had opened the window, and they were face to face.

"Mr. Naball," she cried, with a sudden, angry light in her eyes, "you have heard--"

"Every word," said Naball, looking straight at her wrathful face.