Portail, "and nothing is easier than to
prove it. Do you remember the robbery of some diamonds from one of our
dramatic celebrities about ten years ago?"

"Yes," replied Cerizet. "I was manager of one of my newspapers at the
time, and I used to write the 'Paris items.' But stay, I remember, the
actress who lost them was Mademoiselle Beaumesnil."

"Precisely; the mother of Mademoiselle de la Peyrade."

"Consequently, this miserable old Toupillier--no, I remember that the
thief was convicted; his name was Charles Crochard. It was said, under
the rose, that he was the natural son of a great personage, the Comte
de Granville, attorney-general under the Restoration." [See "A Double
Life."]

"Well," said du Portail, "this is how it happened. The robbery was
committed in a house in the rue de Tournon, occupied by Mademoiselle
Beaumesnil. Charles Crochard, who was a handsome fellow, was said to
have the run of it--"

"Yes, yes," cried Cerizet, "I remember Mademoiselle Beaumesnil's
embarrassment when she gave her testimony--and also the total extinction
of voice that attacked her when the judge asked her age."

"The robbery," continued du Portail, "was audaciously committed in the
daytime; and no sooner did Charles Crochard get possession of the casket
than he went to the church of Saint-Sulpice, where he had an appointment
with an accomplice, who, being supplied with a passport, was to start
immediately with the diamonds for foreign parts. It so chanced that on
entering the church, instead of meeting the man he expected, who was a
trifle late, Charles Crochard came face to face with a celebrated agent
of the detective force, who was well known to him, inasmuch as the young
rascal was not at his first scrimmage with the police. The absence of
his accomplice, this encounter with the detective, and, lastly, a rapid
movement made by the latter, by the merest chance, toward the door,
induced the robber to fancy he was being watched. Losing his head
under this idea, he wanted, at any cost, to put the casket out of his
possession, knowing that if arrested, as he expected, at the door of the
church, it would be a damning proof against him. Catching sight at that
moment of Toupillier, who was then the giver of holy water, 'My man,'
said he, making sure that no one overheard their colloquy, 'will you
take care of this little package for me? It is a box of lace. I am going
near by to a countess who is slow to pay her bill; and if I