er ten already, and the diamond
baubles haven't been found yet. If you'll kindly stand aside, and let
somebody else without such a large supply of easily outrageable pride
have the floor, I'll examine them."

The Frenchman, with a sniff and with head in air, walked out of the
library; and my friend summoned in the seventh servant so far, the
Russian second cook.

CHAPTER VI

"Well, what's your name, stupid?" snapped Holmes, as a
colorless-looking fellow with vacant eyes stood before us.

"Ivan Galetchkoff. I was born in Tikhorietzkaia, Northern Caucasia, I
work as second cook in the Earl's kitchen, and I can tell you just who
stole his cuff-buttons; so I can!"

"Well, this is interesting, if true," commented Holmes. "And whom do
you accuse as the guilty miscreant, Ivan?"

"I accuse that black scoundrel Vermicelli, the Earl's valet. Oh, how I
hate him, with his smooth and slippery ways, and his air of
superiority over me, because he helps the Earl on and off with his
silk shirts, and I mix the hash in the kitchen!" replied Ivan.

"Well, that's hardly valid ground for accusing him of the
robbery,--don't you think?" said Holmes, smiling.

"No; but I have other reasons, all right. Vermicelli is the guy who
attends to the Earl in his bedroom, and he was the last man to see the
diamond cuff-buttons as His Lordship retired Sunday night. Therefore,
he certainly stole them. I guess it doesn't take a London detective to
dope that out. Why didn't you search his room the very first thing?"

And Galetchkoff looked about him with an air of triumph.

"Evidently this subject of the Czar didn't observe his object of
suspicion going around with something shiny in his hand, as the others
did. Call in the next boob," said Holmes.

The Russian hash-mixer departed, and a very charming black-eyed
senorita from sunny Spain stood before us.

"What is your name, madam?" said Holmes, with some embarrassment,
since, as I have observed before in the course of our mutual
adventures, he was a confirmed bachelor, and didn't like women.

"Teresa Olivano, from Seville, sir. I am Her Ladyship the Countess's
maid, sir," she replied, with a bewitching smile at my misogynist
friend.

"Er, ah,--well, what do you know about the stolen cuff-buttons, if
anything? Of course, I don't mean to insinuate that you had a hand in
it."

She smiled again, and replied:

"I am quite sure that you will find the Earl's stolen jewelry upon the
pe