ng up more rapidly. I looked at him shrewdly.

"Just how did Maillot's story of his experience with Page impress you?"
I asked.

He gave me a quick glance.

"It was amazing. I could not believe that Maillot was wilfully
fabricating; yet, to accept his extraordinary story left me, as the
only alternative, a conviction that Felix Page had either undergone a
change of heart, or else had lost his mind."

"It did n't occur to you that Page might be trying a game of his own?"

"No."

"Did you ever see the replica?" I asked.

"Yes, many times. It is a remarkably excellent imitation--silicate of
alumina; the weight, color, and hardness, the measurements--table,
girdle, and _culasse_--all correspond exactly with the original. It
lacks only in density, and perhaps a trifle in--but no; it would
require an expert test to determine that it was not a true ruby."

"Then," I eagerly pursued, "even an expert might be imposed upon by the
replica?"

"Well," he slowly admitted, "perhaps--yes. But not for long; men who
deal in precious stones after a time develop a sort of sixth sense that
protects them against imposition. It is too subtle to define; but any
diamond merchant will tell you that the most perfect imitation will
raise a doubt in his mind as to its genuineness; a true stone, never."

When I considered his special knowledge of the subject in general, and
of the Paternoster ruby in particular, I was astounded at his
obtuseness. Later, I was no less astounded at my own.

"Is it possible, Mr. Fluette," I went on, with an enthusiasm which he
did not in the least share, "that it never occurred to you what Burke's
game might be? With the connivance of these Burmese, he was
deliberately attempting to swindle you; he meant to practise the old
familiar game of 'switching' the false for the real stone. The Burmese
want the stone, not the money without the stone; but for a generous
share in the proceeds, they were willing to lend themselves to Burke's
fraud. There 's the Oriental for you."

The man stared at me dully. I continued, warming with the subject.

"And Felix Page--he was craftier than even you give him credit for.
Mr. Fluette, there 's nothing extraordinary in Maillot's story of his
Tuesday night adventure--except our stupidity in comprehending its real
significance.

"Remember Page's strict injunction to Maillot not to let the jewel-case
out of his possession until he and Miss Belle were married; think