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over and looked through the window. The curtain was down, but it flapped about. Everything was quiet—I thought the place was empty. And then—well, really—I’m a little embarrassed about this. I’d never done such a thing before. But I was desperate—strapped—and when you're that way you get the feeling, somehow, that the world owes you a living——”

“Get on with it,” barked the Chief.

“Well, just inside the window I caught a glimpse of—of a diamond pin. I thought there was no one inside, so I pushed up the screen and climbed on to the sill. I stooped over and picked up the pin—and then I saw her—the woman—lying over there by the table—stabbed, dead. Well, of course I realized at once that was no place for me. I lowered the screen, hid the pin in a little secret safety-deposit box of mine on the beach, and strolled as casually as I could to the avenue. I was still moving when that cop picked me up, an hour later.”

“Is pin still on beach?” Chan inquired.

“No—I got it this morning.” Smith reached into his trousers pocket and produced it. “Take it quick—I don’t want it—don’t let me ever see it again. I must have been crazy, I guess. But as I say—when you're down and out——”

Charlie was studying the pin. It was a delicate affair, a row of fine diamonds set in platinum. He turned it over. The pin itself was broken midway, and the end of it was lost.

The Chief was looking sternly at the beach-comber. “Well,” he said, “you know what this means. “We'll have to lock you up——”

“One moment, please,” broke in Charlie. “Finding