"But why didn't you take them?" she said. "Why didn't you?"
"I don't know. The madness passed; and then—when I saw you lying there Oh, God! Why don't you give me up to the police?" He laid his head down and sobbed afresh.
Mrs. Chater bent over him with tears standing in her pretty grey eyes. "But tell me," she said, "why didn't you take the diamonds? You could if you'd liked, I suppose?"
"What good were they to me?" he demanded passionately. "What did anything matter to me? I thought you were dead."
"Well, I'm not, you see," she said, with a rather tearful smile; "I'm just as well as an old woman like me can expect to be. And I want your address, so that I can write and give you some good advice."
The man sat up and produced a shabby card-case from his pocket, and, as he took out a number of cards and spread them out like the "hand" of a whist player, I caught a twinkle in Thorndyke's eye.
"My name is Augustus Bailey," said the man. He selected the appropriate card, and, having scribbled his address on it with a stump of lead pencil, relapsed into his former position.
"Thank you," said Mrs. Chater, lingering for a moment by the table. "Now we'll go. Good-
