One hundred eighty-four Speedwell Street proved to be a trim, well-kept apartment leased by a clerk in one of the large dry-goods houses and occupied by himself, his wife, his sister and two children. The family was of French descent and was thrifty and respectable. In order to make both ends of their slender income meet they had taken as a boarder Mr. Carlton (alias Stuart) whom they had found to be a delightful addition to the household.

"Yes, indeed! We know Monsieur Carlton well," replied the pretty little wife in response to Corrigan's inquiries. "He is charming. Such a gentleman and so kind to the children! But he is away just now. In fact, we have heard nothing from him for several days and were becoming a trifle worried by his silence. I hope no ill has befallen him." Apprehensively her eye traveled with questioning gaze over the inspector's blue uniform.

"I am afraid your boarder will not be back for some time," responded he not unkindly.

"Something has happened to him then. Mon Dieu! I am sorry—sorry! The children will break their hearts crying. Has he been hurt? Or maybe he is ill?"

"No, it is nothing of that sort. Later I will explain it all to you. He sent us to get something he had left here."

"To be sure. Come in, won't you? Ah, I am glad he is not sick! See, this is his room. We gave him our best one because he liked it and could pay."

"May I bring in some men who accompanied me?" asked Corrigan gently.

"Surely! Whatever you wish you may do since you are Mr. Carlton's friend. But I do not at all understand what is the trouble. Can't you—"

"By and by, madam, you shall know."

"It must, of course, be as you wish," agreed the tiny French woman with a smile. "I know nothing about it. Why should I interfere? Will you and your companions please step this way?" Then with surprise, "What, more police?"

"Yes. But you must not be afraid," the inspector declared reassuringly. "We want nothing of you. Only what Mr.—"

"Carlton—"

"Mr. Carlton sent us to secure," concluded Corrigan.

"Eh, bien! Enter then. This is the way. It is here Mr. Carlton sleeps. A pleasant room, you see. Books, magazines, and even a plant in bloom. He is fond of flowers."

"I am not surprised," murmured Corrigan with a shrug. "A gentleman—as I asserted. The radiator is here, Tim. That must be the board. Take it up carefully so not to splinter it and deface the flooring. No doubt it will come easily."

"The floor—you are not going to tear up the floor!" cried the woman excitedly.

"Only one board," was the soothing answer. "We shall do no injury to your premises."

"But surely Mr. Carlton would not hide things away under the floor; only thieves do that." She laughed a tremulous, half-frightened laugh at the absurdity of the jest.

"How about it, Tim? Is it coming?" questioned Corrigan, ignoring the pleasantry.

"It stirs, sir; but it is not so loose as you might expect. Didn't Blake bring a chisel?"

"Yes, it's here. Why not run a knife down that crack and see if you can't raise the board a little. If you can lift it enough to slip something under it will come up," directed the chief.

"It's coming now, sir. There, we have it!"

"Take out all those wads of tissue paper."

"Here they are, sir."

"Any more?"

"I reckon not, sir."

"Still, you'd better make sure. Run your hand in at each end as far as you can reach."

"There's nothing there, sir. A beam goes along where those nails are."

"You are sure there is no other opening?"

"Certain of it."

"Nevertheless, I'll have a look myself."

"To be sure, Mr. Corrigan," the officer replied, stepping aside.

Carefully the chief stooped down and explored the chasm with his hand.

"You're right, Tim; there is nothing more," asserted he. "We have everything we came after, I guess."

"I am glad to hear that," put in the French woman with returning confidence. "Mr. Carlton will, I am sure, be pleased that you found what he sent you for. But what a strange place for him to store his property! Things of value, no doubt, which he treasured and feared might be lost. Have you any idea when he will be back? Perhaps if you would give me his address I might write him a letter—that is, if you think—" She halted timidly.

For the fraction of a second Corrigan was silent as if he winced at performing the duty before him.

"I am afraid, madam," responded he at last, "that Mr. Carlton will not return; nor, I fear, will you wish him back when you know the circumstances under which he has disappeared. Suffice it to say we come vested with authority to take possession of his personal effects. After to-day there will be no need for you to reserve his room."

"You mean he is not to return at all—never?" asked the woman in an awe-stricken voice.

Corrigan nodded.

Weakly the woman dropped into a chair, a sudden light of pained understanding breaking over her face.

"You mean Mr. Carlton—"

"That was not his real name," interrupted the officer. "He went under several names. Stuart is the one the police know him by. He was a professional diamond thief."

"No, no! I cannot believe it," protested the loyal little creature stoutly. "Why, he was all kindness to us. When my husband was ill he nursed him for a whole week, day and night. He gave toys to the children, did errands, and often brought us fruit or candy. Are you sure there is no mistake? Certainly we should know if he were a bad man."

"Alas, my good woman, the proofs we hold in our hands are so convincing as to leave not the slightest possibility for error. There were, you see, two Carltons—the kind, friendly gentleman you knew; and the clever, experienced criminal with whom the police were acquainted. Most of us are a combination of various selves. This man had two sharply contrasting individualities and unfortunately it was the baser of them that dominated. He has a long prison record behind him."

"Ciel!" The woman clasped her hands in horror. "But why?" exclaimed she. "He did not need to steal. He always had plenty of money."

"That was how he got it."

For a while she seemed too stunned to say more; then she whispered:

"And where is he now?"

"Serving a prison sentence for a crime in Chicago."

"It is terrible—terrible! Oh, my husband will be sad to hear this; and my sister too. Poor fellow! I can scarcely believe it. Suppose the neighbors were to hear we had been housing a burglar—they would not speak to us."

"No one will know unless you yourself tell them," the inspector answered.

"Ah, you may be sure I shall not do that," was the instant response. "Not even my children will I tell. They were fond of Mr. Carlton."

"Let them remain so. It can do no harm. In fact, no doubt the man they loved merited their affection," answered the inspector. "I wish he had been just that and nothing else."

"And so do I—with all my heart!"

In the meantime, while Corrigan had been occupied with Stuart's landlady two bluecoats had been ransacking the closet and searching the contents of a trunk that stood in the room. Here they had brought to light a bag of tools and a variety of garments, hats, and wigs evidently used as disguises.

As they now displayed these trophies before the eyes of the bewildered French woman, the last vestige of hope she had cherished vanished and she burst into tears.

"Alas, alas!" sobbed she. "He was a bad man. I am convinced of it now. And yet I cannot believe he was entirely bad."

"No one is all bad—thank Heaven," the chief responded, as he gathered together the things that had been found, sent his men below, and having said farewell, closed the door upon the weeping French woman. Then, as he and Christopher went soberly downstairs, he added:

"Poor woman—she was all cut up. Everybody who goes wrong breaks somebody's heart. He's bound to. The destinies of all of us are so entangled with other persons that there is no such thing as living only to ourselves. Consider, for example, how many individuals this Stuart came in contact with—your father, yourself, Hollings, Rhinehart, and these unlucky French people. He might as well have touched those lives for good as for evil. And we are only a small part of the men and women he has run up against during his existence. When I think of that, it turns me pretty sober. The influence each of us exerts reaches a so much wider circle than we realize that it certainly behooves us to make the power we hold as strong for good as we are able, doesn't it?"

Christopher nodded gravely. Little more was said until the Burton and Norcross store was reached, where, parting from their blue-uniformed companions, Christopher and the inspector ascended to the firm's private offices. Here on the desk of the senior partner Corrigan proceeded to unwrap and display the treasure he had recovered. There was a sparkling diamond pendant, two or three broaches, a sapphire-studded bracelet, and the much-lamented and long-sought-for ring.

"You can identify it, can you, Mr. Burton?" questioned the officer, as he passed it over for examination.

"Anywhere on earth, I believe," replied the jeweler. "The setting has not even been disturbed. Nevertheless, to make certainty more sure, let us send for Hollings and for Rhinehart, our expert."

"By all means."

Mr. Burton touched a bell and gave the order and while waiting for it to be obeyed sat regarding the heap of flashing baubles lying before him.

"Somebody beside ourselves will rejoice to see their property coming back," mused he. "I wonder who these other things belong to. That pendant is a very fine one."

"Without looking up the description I am fairly certain the pendant is one lost by a guest at the Biltmore. We have been on the hunt for it some time. The other jewels may also belong to the same party. Quite a list of missing articles was given us. I have it down at headquarters."

"Well, if the owners are as much gratified to see their diamonds returning as we are—"

The opening of the door cut short further comment and Hollings and Mr. Rhinehart came into the room. It was evident from their manner they had no inkling as to why they had been summoned and the former employee, fearful of another disaster, was pallid with apprehension.

"Ever see this ring before, Hollings?" questioned Mr. Burton, whirling round in his swivel chair and extending the jewel.

"My soul, sir! You don't mean—" He stopped, speechless.

"What do you say, Mr. Rhinehart?"

"It certainly looks like our property," declared the more cautious clerk. "If it is, the identification letters BNC will be found scratched inside the band of the ring. Have you a glass there?"

"Mr. Rhinehart isn't going to commit himself without a microscope," chuckled the inspector. "He is dead right too."

"I wish to verify the stones as well as the setting," replied the expert.

"I guess in this case your stones are genuine enough. Stuart hadn't much chance to tamper with them. Nevertheless, it can do no harm to make sure," Corrigan said.

Opening a drawer Mr. Burton produced a powerful glass which he handed to Rhinehart who went to the light and carefully scanned the scintillating gems.

"Flawless and of the first water!" exclaimed he, after a tense pause. "The setting hasn't been touched, so there is practically no danger of substitution."

"You mean we have actually got the ring back—diamonds and all?" put in Hollings, as if unable to make real the miracle.

"We have—thanks to Mr. Corrigan," was Mr. Burton's reply.

"Thanks to young Christopher, you mean, sir," smiled the chief protestingly.

"What can I do to thank you?" cried Hollings. "I said I would give anything I possessed if those diamonds could be reclaimed and I'm ready to live up to my promise."

"Pooh, pooh!" laughed Corrigan. "I've no wish for payment, man. To win out in this game is payment enough for me. Besides, the police are not allowed to accept money, you know. An officer of the law gets his satisfaction in clearing up a crime and locating the loot. Until he can do that his mind is never at peace. This day's stroke has enabled me to wipe two mysteries that have balked me off my slate and go to bed to-night with at least that many less on my mind."

He rose.

"Well, Chief, all I can say is that we are very grateful to you," declared Mr. Burton.

He would have said more had not the inspector raised his hand with a forbidding gesture.

"It's all right, sir. I'm fully as glad as you to see your property safely returned. If you have any thanks to bestow, pass them on to your son, for without him the missing diamonds might never have been located."

Then turning toward the boy he added:

"Should you want a job on the force, youngster, come down to headquarters. A lad who can win the hearts of criminals and coax them into voluntarily returning their ill-gotten gains would be an immense asset in our business."

Shaking hands all round and clapping Christopher affectionately on the shoulder, the chief went out.

"Better put that ring back in the show case, Hollings," concluded Mr. Burton. "I don't need to caution you to keep an eye on it, I guess."

"You bet you don't!" was the fervent ejaculation. Then Hollings blushed to the roots of his hair at having thus addressed the great Mr. Burton.

But for once that worthy appeared to forget his dignity and, becoming human, he laughed like a boy of ten.