Well, they searched the drawer, and the clasp certainly was not there.

Horace explained how he had deceived the colonel by quickly putting another piece of jewelry into the little case when he found it empty.

“I am clever at sleight-of-hand,” said he, “or I could never have worked it.  I just flashed it before your eyes, uncle, and made you think that you saw the clasp.  Forgive me; I thought it was the best.”

“I will forgive you, Horace,” said Colonel Richmond, gently; “but now you must believe.  And you, too, Mr. Carter.  Here is proof positive.”

They locked the drawer and left the vault.

In the ante-chamber Nick turned to Horace.

“I suppose you’ll want to knock my head off when I tell you what I now propose to do,” said the detective.  “But I think it ought to be done.”

“What is it?” asked Horace.

“I think you ought to be searched.”

“Exactly my own idea,” said Horace.  “It is only fair to you.  Proceed.”

Nick searched him.  The diamond clasp was not found.  Horace certainly did not have it.

“I hope you’re satisfied,” he said to Nick.  “You know perfectly well that I have had no opportunity to dispose of it.  There wasn’t much chance in that vault.”

Nick laughed.

“I should say not,” he replied.  “I’m afraid we shall have to fall back upon the theory of the colonel.”

“No theory,” cried he; “but the living truth, and now proven before you both.  But let me ask, Mr. Carter, why you suspected my nephew of taking the clasp.”

“I didn’t,” replied Nick promptly.  “I searched him in order to remove every possibility.”

“Surely he would have no motive for such an action.”

“None that I can see,” said Nick, with perfect sincerity.

They proceeded at once to Mrs. Stevens’ house.

It was about seven o’clock when they arrived.

They drove up from the station, and on the way picked up Patsy.

During the remainder of the drive, he was busy communicating with Nick in their sign language.

“Miss Stevens is in her room,” said Patsy.  “She has had a doctor with her almost all the time.  He refuses to say anything.  I believe, upon my soul, that I shot her last night.”

Annie O’Neil, the servant, answered the bell.

She ushered them into the parlor, and said that Mrs. Stevens was in the room of her daughter who was quite ill.

Annie went upstairs to summon her mistress.

A minute later the party below heard a scream.

Then Mrs. Stevens appeared.  She was very pale.

In her hand she held a small object wrapped in paper.

“I have just found this upon my daughter’s pillow,” she said.  “I have not removed the paper, but I know instinctively what is within.  It is another jewel.”

“I am equally sure of it,” cried the colonel.  “Open the package, Mrs. Stevens.”