Nickie had been careful to betray no particular interest in the great murder case in the presence of his friends in the Museum of Marvels.  He knew that the fictitious Rev. Andrew Rowbottom had been inquired for by the police as a man who might provide a clue, but the search for him had not been warmly followed up, it being assumed that he was some trumpery imposter.  In any case, his importance was forgotten in a splendid dramatic idea entertained by the detectives, inculpating a clever and notorious criminal.  The notorious criminal proved an alibi, and after being a nine days’ wonder the great diamond robbery and murder case was supplanted in the public mind by an even more sensational crime.  Nickie in his terror of being associated with the murder had been careful, up to now, to betray no interest.  He had evaded conversation about it, and only occasional papers had come into his hands at the show.  Now he was eager to know all the evidence, anxious to account for the presence of the paste stones in the pocket of a reputable diamond dealer.

Mr. Crips determined to seek out “Mary Stuart.”  All hope of a comfortable future was not lost.  “Mary Stuart” must provide for her scape-goat.  It should be her pleasing duty to clothe and feed that hapless animal for the remainder of its days.

In pursuit of his inquiries Nicholas turned up at Whitecliff on the following Sunday afternoon.  To the immense astonishment of the master and mistress of that stuccoed mansion, Nickie was neat and clean, spick and span:  he wore pince-nez glasses and spoke like a gentleman.

Nickie greeted his brother William with chastened melancholy, his manner towards his sister-in-law was courteous and kindly.  He talked of reformation and a new life, of the honourable and onerous position he now occupied in a reputable Sydney business, and of his approaching marriage with an excellent, middle-aged, maiden lady of means.  Deftly he worked round to a tall, aristocratic woman who had appeared a Mary Queen of Scots at the memorable fancy-dress ball at Whitecliff.

Brother William groaned, sister Jean sat up very straight, and sniffed ominously.  “The creature!” she said.

“That woman was no friend of ours, Nicholas,” said brother William, hastily.

“I met her in your house,” said Nicholas, “and from a brief conversation I had I was deeply interested.  It has occurred to me lately that if she still holds the same views she would be of vast assistance to my firm in a transaction we are meditating.”

“Have nothing to do with her,” cried William.  “The creature was an adventuress; she worked her way into our confidence with trickery and fraud, presenting herself in society here as a lady of title.  It was afterwards proved that she had come to the country as the companion of an infamous scamp who at that very time was serving a sentence of seven years for attempted burglary and firing on the police.  The woman disappeared shortly after the occasion you mention.  She left the country, I imagine.  At any rate, the police were pursuing her for some time for passing valueless cheques.  Please do not mention her name in this house; it awakens painful recollections, Nicholas.”