acket!

"I didn't expect to deceive him," Godfrey explained. "I just wanted
to give him a little surprise. And to think I wasn't there to see
it!"

"But if he knew they were imitations," I protested, "why should he go
to all that trouble to steal them?"

"That is what puzzled me last night," said Godfrey; "and, for that
matter, it puzzles me yet."

"Maybe he's got the real stones, after all," suggested Grady, who had
been listening to all this with incredulous countenance. "The story
sounds fishy to me. Maybe these are the imitations."

M. Pigot came forward and picked up the Mazarin and looked at it.

"This one, at least, is real," he said, after a moment. "And I have
no doubt the others are," he added, turning them over with his
finger.

Grady, still incredulous, picked up one of the brilliants, went to
the window, and drew it down the pane. It left a deep scratch behind
it.

"Yes," he admitted reluctantly, "I guess they're diamonds, all
right," and he sat down again.

"And now, gentlemen," continued Godfrey, who had watched Grady's
byplay with a tolerant smile, "I am ready to turn these diamonds over
to you. I should like you to count them, and give me a receipt for
them."

"And then, of course, you will write the story," sneered Grady, "and
give yourself all the credit."

"Well," asked Godfrey, looking at him, "do you think you deserve
any?" And Grady could only crimson and keep silent. "As for the
story, it is already written. It will be on the streets in ten
minutes--and it will create a sensation. Please count the diamonds.
You will find two hundred and ten of them."

"That is the exact number stolen from the Grand Duke," remarked M.
Pigot, and fell to counting. The number was two hundred and ten.

"Mr. Shearrow has the receipt," Godfrey added, and Shearrow took a
paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and read the contents.

It proved to be not only a receipt, but a full statement of the facts
of the case, without omitting the details of the robbery and the
credit due the _Record_ for the recovery of the diamonds. Grady's
face grew redder and redder as the reading proceeded.

"I won't sign no such testimonial as that," he blustered. "Not on
your life I won't!"

"You will sign it, will you not, M. Pigot?" asked Godfrey.

"Certainly," said the Frenchman; "it is a recognition of your
services very well deserved," and he stepped forward and signed it
with a flourish.

"Now, Simmonds," said God