“I don’t understand.” she murmured.  “A pawnbroker’s?”

“Come,” urged Kennedy, not harshly but firmly, then, as she held back, added, playing a trump card, “We must work quickly.  In his hands we found the fragments of a torn dress.  When the police—­”

She uttered a shriek.  A glance had told her, if she had deceived herself before, that Kennedy knew her secret.

Antoinette Moulton was standing before him, talking rapidly.

“Some one has told Lynn.  I know it.  There is nothing now that I can conceal.  If you had come half an hour later you would not have found me.  He had written to Mr. Schloss, threatening him that if he did not leave the country he would shoot him at sight.  Mr. Schloss showed me the letter.

“It had come to this.  I must either elope with Schloss, or lose his aid.  The thought of either was unendurable.  I hated him—­yet was dependent on him.

“To-night I met him, in his empty apartment, alone.  I knew that he had what was left of his money with him, that everything was packed up.  I went prepared.  I would not elope.  My plan was no less than to make him pay the balance on the necklace that he had lost--or to murder him.

“I carried a new pistol in my muff, one which Lynn had just bought.  I don’t know how I did it.  I was desperate.

“He told me he loved me, that Lynn did not, never had—­that Lynn had married me only to show off his wealth and diamonds, to give him a social! position—­that I was merely a—­a piece of property—­ a dummy.

“He tried to kiss me.  It was revolting.  I struggled away from him.

“And in the struggle, the revolver fell from my muff and exploded on the floor.

“At once he was aflame with suspicion.

“‘So—­it’s murder you want!’ he shouted.  ’Well, murder it shall be!’

“I saw death in his eye as he seized my arm.  I was defenseless now.  The old passion came over him.  Before he killed—­he—­would have his way with me.

“I screamed.  With a wild effort I twisted away from him.

“He raised his hand to strike me, I saw his eyes, glassy.  Then he sank back—­fell to the floor—­dead of apoplexy—­dead of his furious emotions.

“I fled.

“And now you have found me.”

She had turned, hastily, to leave the room.  Kennedy blocked the door.

“Mrs. Moulton,” he said firmly, “listen to me.  What was the first question you asked me?  ‘Can I trust you?’ And I told you you could.  This is no time for—­for suicide.”  He shot the word out bluntly.  “All may not be lost.  I have sent for your husband.  Muller is outside.”

“Muller?” she cried.  “He made the replica.”

“Very well.  I am going to clear this thing up.  Come.  You must.”

It was all confused to me, the dash in a car to the little pawnbroker’s on the first floor of a five-story tenement, the quick entry into the place by one of Muller’s keys.