“I don’t know their exact number,” was the reply.  “Their value, I should say, was about sixty thousand dollars.  Except for this little house, and the grounds adjoining, practically all of Mr. Kellner’s money was invested in diamonds.  Those you have there are part of an accumulation of many years, imported in the rough, one or two at a time.”

Mr. Czenki was gazing abstractedly out of a window, but the expression on his lean face indicated the keenest interest, and—­and something else; apprehension, maybe.  The chief stared straight into the young man’s eyes for an instant, and then: 

“And Mr. Kellner’s family?” he inquired.

“There is no one, except his granddaughter, Doris.”

Some change, sudden as it was pronounced, came over the chief, and his whole attitude altered.  He dropped into a chair near the door.

“Have a seat, Mr. Wynne,” he invited courteously, “and let’s understand this thing clearly.  Over there, please,” and he indicated a chair partly facing that in which Mr. Czenki sat.

Mr. Wynne sat down.

“Now you don’t seem to believe,” the chief went on pleasantly, “that Czenki here killed Mr. Kellner?”

“Well, no,” the young man admitted.

Mr. Czenki glanced at him quickly, warningly.  The chief was not looking, but he knew the glance had passed.

“And why don’t you believe it?” he continued.

“In the first place,” Mr. Wynne began without hesitation, “the diamonds were worth only about sixty thousand dollars, and Mr. Czenki here draws a salary of twenty-five thousand dollars a year.  The proportion is wrong, you see.  Again, Mr. Czenki is a man of unquestioned integrity.  As diamond expert of the Henry Latham Company he handles millions of dollars’ worth of precious stones each year, and has practically unlimited opportunities for theft, without murder, if he were seeking to steal.  He has been with that company for several years, and that fact alone is certainly to his credit.”

“Very good,” commented the chief ambiguously.  He paused an instant to study this little man with an interest aroused by the sum of his salary.  “And what of Haney’s description?  His accusation?” he asked.

“Haney might have lied, you know,” retorted Mr. Wynne.  “Men in his position have been known to lie.”

“I understood you to say,” the chief resumed, heedless of the note of irony in the other’s voice, “that you and Miss Kellner are to be married?”

“Yes.”

“And that she is the only heir of her grandfather?”

“Yes.”

“Therefore, at his death, the diamonds would become her property?”

For one instant Mr. Wynne seemed startled, and turned his clear eyes full upon his interrogator, seeking the hidden meaning.

“Yes, but—­” he began slowly.

“That’s true, isn’t it?” demanded the chief, with quick violence.