han satisfied--she was pleased. She was very
sanguine as to the existence of the diamond, and also as to its
retention by M. Platzoff; far more so, in fact, than Mr. Madgin himself
was. But the latter was too shrewd a man of business to parade his
doubts of success before a client who paid so liberally, so long as her
hobby was ridden after her own fashion. Mr. Madgin's chief aim in life
was to ride other people's hobbies, and be well paid for his jockeyship.

"I am highly gratified, Mr. Madgin," said her ladyship, "by the style,
_plein de finesse_, in which you have so far conducted this delicate
investigation. I will not ask you what your next step is to be. You know
far better than I can tell you what ought to be done. I leave the matter
with confidence in your hands."

"Your ladyship is very kind," observed Mr. Madgin, deferentially. "I
will do my best to deserve a continuance of your good opinion."

"As week after week goes by, Mr. Madgin," resumed Lady Chillington, "the
conviction seems to take deeper root within me that that man--that
villain--M. Platzoff, has my son's diamond still in his possession. I
have a sort of spiritual consciousness that such is the case. My waking
intuitions, my dreams by night, all point to the same end. You, with
your cold, worldly sense, may laugh at such things; we women, with our
finer organisation, know how often the truth comes to us on mystic
wings. The diamond will yet be mine!"

"What nonsense women sometimes talk," said Mr. Madgin contemptuously to
himself as he walked back through the park. "Who would believe that my
lady, so sensible on most things, could talk such utter rubbish. But
women have a way of leaping to results, and ignoring processes, that is
simply astounding to men of common sense. The diamond hers, indeed!
Although I have been so successful so far, there is as much difference
between what I have done and what has yet to be done as there is between
the simple alphabet and a mathematical theorem. To-morrow's post ought
to bring me a letter from Bon Repos."

To-morrow's post did bring Mr. Madgin a letter from Bon Repos. The
writer of it was not his son, but Cleon. It was addressed, as a matter
of course, to Deepley Walls, of which place the mulatto had been led to
believe Mr. Madgin was the proprietor. The note, which was couched in
tolerable English, was simply a request to be furnished with a
testimonial as to the character and abilities of James Jasmin, l