The Diamond Pin

"Fairly nice; old-fashioned, but not antique at all. Decent furnishings, but no taste, and nothing of real value. Commonplace, all through."

"The hardest kind of a house to trace!"

"Yes, there was nothing distinctive at all."

"No people in it?"

"Not that I know of. I heard no sound. Flossie took me into a little sitting room to undress, not a bedroom. Everything was clean, but ordinary. Of course, I'd know the room if I saw it again, but I've no glimmering of an idea where it was."

"Strangest case I ever heard of!" mused Mr. Chapin. "I think the pin has some especial value. Maybe it is of gold, inside."

"Nonsense!" said Lucille, scornfully, "that amount of gold wouldn't be worth anything! I'm inclined to the radium theory, though I don't know a thing about the stuff."

"Well, I'm going to hide this pin, right now," said Iris, "and I want you all to see where I put it. I'm afraid to put it in the bank or in Mr. Chapin's safe, for those people would get it somehow. But here are only Mr. Chapin and Mr. Hughes and Miss Darrel and myself. We are all trustworthy, and I'll hide it. Then, I shall devote my life to the solving of the mystery of the pin and Aunt Ursula's death – for, I think they are very closely connected."

"I believe you!" cried Hughes, "and I agree that the best place to hide the thing is in this house. Where, now?"

"In Auntie's room," said Iris, solemnly, and she led the way to Ursula Pell's sitting room. "This place is barred and we can lock the door to the other room, and keep it locked. See, I shall put it in this big easy chair, that Auntie loved to sit in. I'll tuck it well down in between the back and the seat upholstery, and no one can find it. Then, if we ever discover wherein its value lies, we know where the pin is, and can get it."

"I suppose that's all right," said Mr. Chapin, a little dubiously, "but in a safe – "

"No, Miss Clyde's idea is best," asserted Hughes. "How cleverly she hid the thing in her skirt hem, didn't she? Let her alone for the right dope about this. As she says, we four know where it is, and that's all that's necessary. I believe the people who want this pin will stick at nothing, and if it's in any ordinary safe they'll get it."

"But what could they want of it?" repeated Lucille, plaintively. "Just as a surmise, what could they want of it?"

"I'll tell you!" cried Iris, with a flash of inspiration. "It's a clue or a key to where the jewels are hidden! Oh, it must be! That's why they want it!"

"Clue? How?" said Lucille, in bewilderment.

"I don't know, but, say, the pin is the length of – of – "

"I don't know what you're getting at," said Chapin, "but all pins are the same length."

"What!" cried Hughes, "indeed they're not!"

"Oh, well, I mean there are only a few lengths. The pins that girl took from Iris to-day are just the same as this one, aren't they?"

"About," said Iris; "of course, pins differ, but the ones we use are generally of nearly the same length. But I'm sure the length or weight of this pin – "

"Weight!" exclaimed Hughes; "suppose a certain weight, goldsmith's scales, you know – would open a delicately adjusted lode on a safe – "

"You're romancing, man," and Mr. Chapin smiled, "but it does seem that the pin must have some significance. It would be just like Ursula Pell to call it a valuable pin, when it really was a valuable pin, in some such sense as a key to a hiding-place."

"But how?" repeated Lucille; "I don't see how its weight or length could be a key – "

"Nor I," agreed Hughes, "but I believe it is, all the same! I've a lot of confidence in Miss Clyde's intuition, or insight, or whatever you choose to call it. And I believe she's on the right track. I confess I can't see how, but I do think there may be some connection between this pin and the hidden jewels – "

"But what good does it do, if we can't find it?" objected Lucille.

"We will find it," declaimed Iris, her eyes shining with strong purpose, "we must find it. And if we do, we'll be indebted to these people for putting us on the right track."

"They'll probably turn up again, pin-hunting," mused Mr. Chapin.

"Let 'em!" said Iris, scornfully, "I'm not afraid of them. They're determined, Lord knows! But they're not dangerous."

"They gagged you – "

"But not in a ruffianly manner! No, I'm not afraid. If Miss Darrel will let me stay here a while longer, I believe I can ferret out – "

"Stay as long as you like, dear child," and Lucille smiled kindly on her, "and I'll help you. I'm fond of puzzles, myself, and maybe I can help more than you'd think!"

"Now, I want to go and see Win, and tell him all about it," Iris announced; "mayn't I?"

"I think I can arrange that – " began Hughes; but Lucille said, "Not now, Iris, you must have some food first. Why, you've had no dinner at all, and it's after four o'clock!"

"I'm not hungry," Iris insisted, but Miss Darrel carried her off to the dining room.

"Mighty queer mix-up," Hughes said to the lawyer.

"It is so, but I can't think there's any importance to that pin. These theories don't hold water."

"I dunno's they do, but they've got to be looked into. That pin's safe for the present, I think, safer'n it'd be in a bank. That is, unless somebody was lookin' in the window. Miss Clyde was mighty careful to draw the shades in the other room, but she forgot it in here – and so did I."

"Oh, there's nobody to look in. The house is so far back from the road, and none of the servants are of the prying sort."

"That's all very well, but I believe in taking every precaution. Say, Mr. Chapin, has it ever struck you that Win Bannard might be in cahoots with these pin people?"

"Winston? Good heavens, no! What do you mean?"

"Well, nothing in particular, but you know I arrested Bannard because I thought he killed his aunt – and I've had no reason to change my mind."

"How – "

"Don't say 'how did he get out?' Just remember that the murderer did get out, and we must find him first, and then he'll tell us how."

"Oh, not Win Bannard!"

"Then, who? Who else had motive, opportunity, and – well, you know his finances are in a bad way?"

"No, I didn't know it."

"Well, they are. And he told some of his pals in New York on Saturday night that he'd touch his aunt for five thousand on Sunday! How's that?"

"Did he really?"

"He really did. And we've more counts against him, too. Oh, Winston Bannard has a lot to explain! But I don't want to talk here. These are state secrets."

"But tell me, how did you find out so much about Bannard?"