"He has!" cried Darcy.

"Yes, he called at the court house and begged that it be given to him.

Said it was an ancient timepiece, which he had owned for many years, and as it could have no connection with the crime they let him take it."

"Oh, well, I suppose that was all right. No, Singa Phut didn't have a thing to do with the killing, I'm positive of that."

"And his _alibi_ is perfect," said the colonel. "Well, I guess you've told me all I want to know. You haven't any reason to suspect any one, have you, Darcy?"

"Not a soul! G.o.d knows I wouldn't want to name any one, either, much as I'd like to get out Of here myself."

"Mrs. Darcy had no enemies?"

"Not a one in the world that I know of. She was a friendly woman. Of course, that was good business policy. No, she had no enemies. Most people liked her."

"So I've heard. Well, we'll get at the truth somehow. Now brace up."

"I'm trying to, Colonel."

"Well, try harder. When I go to see Miss Mason--"

"You are going to see Amy?" cried the prisoner eagerly.

"Yes. But if I have to tell her you looked as though you had lost every last friend you had in the world--"

"It's all right, Colonel. Tell her you saw me--laughing!" and Darcy did manage to utter what _might_ pa.s.s for a laugh. It was a good attempt.

"Good! That's better, though there's room for improvement," said the detective. "Now, I'll leave you. I have lots to do."

"I'm sorry. Colonel, to put you to all this trouble--"

"Pooh! Now I'm in it there's no trouble that's too much. I'll get about the same fun out of this as I would if I fished--and I'll fish with greater enjoyment later on--when I've cleared you."

"I hope you do, Colonel. And if there's anything I can do--"

"Thanks, but Miss Mason has already arranged to have me whip her father's trout stream when this case is over, and that's reward enough for me. Now, sir, one last word to you!" and the colonel a.s.sumed the military appearance that so well befitted him. "Stop worrying!"

"I'll try, Colonel!"

"Don't try--do it."

"One question."

"Well, one only. What is it?

"Do you think Mr. Grafton--"

The detective smiled and shook his finger at Darcy.

"You just let _me_ do the thinking!" he advised as he turned to go out.

Colonel Ashley spent two busy days, most of his time being given over to investigating Aaron Grafton. And the more he saw of that gentleman the more the detective became convinced that the merchant knew something of the crime.

"I wouldn't admit, even to myself," mused the colonel, "that he had a hand in it, or that he was an accessory before or after. But he certainly knows something about it, and enough to make him worry.

That's what Aaron Grafton is doing--worrying. And he's worrying about something that ought to be in the jewelry shop and isn't. Now, what is it?"

This, very evidently, was something for Colonel Ashley to discover, and with all his skill he set himself to this task. For the time being he dropped several other ends--tangled ends of the skein he hoped to unravel--and devoted his time to Grafton. And, at the end of two days the detective learned that the merchant was going to make a hurried trip to New York--a trip not directly connected with his store, for those trips were made at other times of the year.

"Well, if he goes to New York I go too!" said the colonel grimly.

And he went, on the same train with Aaron Grafton, though unknown to the latter.

It was a skilful bit of shadowing the detective did on the journey to the metropolis, so skilful that, though the merchant plainly showed by his nervousness that he thought he might have been followed, he did not, seemingly, suspect the quiet man seated not far from him, reading a little green book. The colonel had adopted a simple but effective disguise.

In New York, which was reached early in the morning, after a night journey, the colonel again took up the trail, keeping near his man.

"Follow that taxi," the colonel ordered the driver of his machine as it rolled out of the Pennsylvania station, just a few lengths behind the one in which Grafton rode.

The following was well done, and, a little later the two machines drew up in front of the big office building in which Colonel Ashley had his headquarters.

"Whew!" whispered the follower of Izaak Walton, "I wonder if he came here to consult my agency?"

All doubts were dissolved a moment later when, keeping somewhat in the background, the detective heard the merchant ask the elevator starter on which floor were the offices of Colonel Ashley's detective agency.

"He _does_ want to see me!" excitedly thought the colonel. "What in the world for? This is getting interesting! I've got to do a little fine work now. He must never suspect, at least for a while, that I have been in Colchester."

Next to the elevator in which Aaron Grafton rode up was another.

"Tom, you're an express for the time being!" whispered the colonel to the operator. "There's a man headed for my offices, and I must get in ahead of him. Here's a dollar!"

"I get you, Colonel! Shoot!"

And the car shot up with speed enough to cause the colonel to gasp, used as he was to rapid motion.

He had just time to slide into his quarters by a rear and private door, to make certain changes in his appearance and be calmly sitting at his desk smoking a cigar when his clerk brought in the card of Aaron Grafton.

"Tell him to come in," said the colonel, more and more surprised at the turn affairs were taking. "I'll see this man myself," he continued, speaking to the man into whose hands he had put the general direction of the agency. "Say to Mr. Grafton," he said, turning to the clerk, "that Colonel Ashley will see him in a moment."

CHAPTER VIII

THE DIAMOND CROSS

"Colonel Ashley?" There was a formal, questioning note in the merchant's voice.

"That is my name, yes, sir. Er--Mr. Grafton," and, as though to refresh his memory, the colonel glanced at the card on his desk.

"You are a private detective?"