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Pardoner broke into a sweat.

Then—

“Need she be mixed up in it? I mean ...”

The solicitor shrugged his shoulders.

“If A say’s she’s B,” he said shortly, “when she isn’t, the obvious thing to do is to produce B, isn’t it?”

“I’d better come back here at four,” said Virgil, positively. “After I’ve seen the woman.”

Forsyth shook his head.

“I’m leaving for Paris,” he said, “at two o’clock. Can’t get out of it. Back in a week, I hope. But don’t worry. When’s the wedding?” he added pleasantly.

“Twenty-fou—fifth,” said Virgil, with a sickly smile. “Soon be here now.”

Sarah moistened her lips.

“I think,” she said slowly, “I think I ought to say that I’m rather unsettled.” Her fiancé paled, and Forsyth shot her a swift glance. “I don’t say here and now that I won’t go through with it, but——”

“But you must,” cried Virgil. “You must. Why, that tiara alone——”

“—unless and until this matter is cleared right up, I’m sorry, but ...” She drew off her engagement ring and laid it upon the table. “I think perhaps, if Mr. Forsyth would put this in his safe ...”