d to a
dear friend of his--an inveterate gambler, but an adorable woman. She
dared not tell her husband of money that she'd lost, but begged Raoul to
sell the diamonds for her in Amsterdam and have them replaced by paste.
On his way there the necklace was stolen by an expert thief, who must
somehow have learned what was going on through the pawnbroker with whom
the jewels had been in pledge--for a few thousand francs only. You can
imagine my astonishment at seeing the necklace returned in such a
miraculous way. I thought that Ivor Dundas must have got it back,
meaning to give it to me as a surprise--and the letters afterwards. And
it was only to keep the letters out of the affair altogether at any
price--evidences in black and white of my silly flirtation--and also to
avoid any association of Raoul's name with the necklace, that I told the
Commissary of Police the leather case had in it a present from my lover.
I spoke impulsively, in sheer desperation; and the instant the words
were out I would have cut off my hand to take back the stupid falsehood.
But what good to deny what I had just said? The men wouldn't have
believed me.

"When the police had gone, I asked Mr. Dundas for my letters. But he
thought he had given them to me--and he knew no more of the diamonds in
their red case than I did--far less, indeed.

"I was distracted to find that my letters had disappeared, though I was
thankful for Raoul's sake, to have the necklace. Mr. Dundas believed
that his own leather case with the letters must have been stolen from
his pocket in the train, though he couldn't imagine why the diamonds had
been given to him instead. But he suspected a travelling companion of
his, who had acted queerly; and he determined to try and find the man.
He was to bring me news after the theatre at my house, about midnight.

"He came fifteen minutes later, having been detained at his hotel.
Friends of his had unexpectedly arrived. He had just time to tell me
this, and that after going out on a false scent he had employed a
detective named Girard, when Monsieur du Laurier arrived unexpectedly.
It seems, he'd been made frantically jealous by some misrepresentations
of--the man whose name we haven't mentioned. I begged Mr. Dundas to hide
in my boudoir, which he disliked doing, but finally did, to please me. I
hoped that he would escape by the window, but it stuck, and to my horror
I heard him there, in the dark, moving about. I covered the sounds