empt doing anything with the stones
now. The hue and cry would be too loud. All the diamond markets would
be watched, if they were not already. He had a suspicion that Parker
and Steell suspected something wrong. Francois had seen the President
in earnest consultation with the lawyer directly after Handsome had
announced the loss. He had not been able to hear what was said, but
from their manner he inferred that the diamonds were the sole subject
of conversation. They did not question Handsome's identity. That
never entered their heads, but they doubted his story of losing the
stones. They, no doubt, thought he had used the diamonds to make good
Wall Street losses.

He chuckled as he thought how admirably his scheme had worked out. He
had hinted at Kenneth being heavily short in this street, which at once
explained a motive for Kenneth diverting the stones to his own use.
Yes, he had triumphed over them all--except one. Helen Traynor, so
far, had foiled him in everything, and the more she resisted and
insulted him, the more determined he was to drag her at his feet.
Handsome, poor devil, fondly imagined he would inherit the wife as well
as the fortune. How could he guess that he, Keralio, would send a
bogus telegram just in time to dash the cup from his lips.

Impatiently he strode up and down the rooms. Why was Handsome late? A
frown darkened his face. He had better not trifle with him. He must
obey without question or take the consequences. He was in no mood to
be defied.

Suddenly, he started and listened. His alert ear had caught the sound
of approaching footsteps on the stairs outside. A moment later came
three deliberate knocks on the door, a signal which indicated a
friendly visitor. Quickly, Keralio went forward and withdrew the bolt.

Francois entered, suit case in hand. Hardly before he could take
breath after the long climb, Keralio exclaimed:

"Well, how are they going?"

The Frenchman grinned.

"_A merveille_! Like hot cakes. I've passed all of zem. Good work,
is it not?"

"And the real stuff?" demanded Keralio.

"Is in here."

The valet pointed to the leather case.

Eagerly Keralio seized the portmanteau, and, opening it, emptied the
contents. A perfect shower of greenbacks--genuine ones this time--fell
upon the floor. With shaking hands, like a miser who trembles as he
handles his hoarded gold, Keralio picked up the money by armfuls and,
taking it to a table, procee