," and Louis seemed to hesitate a moment, "if anybody else in
Normanstow Towers still holds the gems, there is no telling what may
happen to them. I wish I could help you find the things; but when a
Canadian gentleman who tells you he is half French, and used to live
in that beautiful city of Quebec, comes and--and----"

Here Louis happened to notice Holmes watching him narrowly, and
instantly realizing the horrible break he had made, got terribly
embarrassed, and stammered out:

"Er, no, I mean, er--that is----"

But Holmes jumped up and didn't give him a chance to finish it.

"Ha, ha! The only Canadian in this neck of the woods is Mr. William Q.
Hicks, of Saskatoon. I knew before that he stole one of the
cuff-buttons, but now that you give yourself away and admit that _you_
know of his theft also, you are in duty bound to tell me where he has
hidden the darned thing. Come, Monsieur La Violette, I am more French
than Hicks is, as my mother was born in France itself, while his was
just a French-Canadian; so come across with your confidence, and rest
assured that I will not misplace it by ever telling Hicks that you
informed on him. The deadly flour-marks on the soles of his shoes
indicated to my eagle eye, ably assisted by the magnifying glass, that
Hicks had been loafing around in the pantry; which could only mean
that he was having confidential relations with you, since the guests
of an earl, from a far-off country, do not commonly come down from the
drawing-room and associate with the chef in the pantry unless they
have something very ulterior up their sleeve,--_n'est-ce pas_?"

Louis got more confused and embarrassed than ever, and was about to
make some kind of answer when Donald MacTavish appeared in the doorway
leading from the cellar, wiping his lips, and with a fatuous grin on
his face.

"Oh, Scotty, Scotty! I am sure you'll never get to be a member of the
W. C. T. U. when you carry on like that," said Holmes, noticing the
footman's caught-with-the-goods expression. "Down in the Earl's
wine-cellar again, sampling 'em up, eh?"

The second footman bowed awkwardly, and was about to pass into the
dining-room when Holmes caught the glint of something sparkling in his
left hand.

CHAPTER XVI

"Stop right where you are, MacTavish!" Holmes shouted commandingly,
"and show me your left paw so I can see what you are trying to carry
away with you. Something more valuable than the tinfoil off a
wine-bott