"Yes," Godfrey agreed, and blew a meditative ring toward the ceiling.
And presently he went away without saying anything more.
But the more I thought of it, the more the inflection he had given that word seemed an interrogation rather than an affirmation.
And when I opened my paper next morning, I more than half expected to be greeted with a black headline announcing the looting of the strong-room of La Bretagne. But there was no such headline, and with a sigh, half of relief and half of disappointment, I turned to the other news.
But two weeks later, a black headline did catch my eye:
MICHAELOVITCH JEWELS FALSE!
FRENCH DETECTIVE TAKES BACK PASTE IMITATIONS FROM AMERICA.
Fraud Discovered When the Grand Duke Michael Sends them to a
Jeweller to be Reset.
I had no need to read the article which followed, for I saw in a flash what had occurred. I saw, too, why Crochard had retained the paste jewels—he had a use for them! How or where the substitution had been made, I could only guess; but one thing was certain: the two weeks which had elapsed before the theft was discovered had given him ample opportunity to dispose of his plunder. I felt sorry for the Grand Duke; sorrier still for that admirable M. Pigot; but, after all, one could not but admire the cleverness of the man who had despoiled them.
Who, I wondered, had bought the Mazarin? Surely there was a diamond most difficult to sell.