"That's what we want you to do."
"Well, sir, I was with 'is Grice one wye or another all through the war, and there's nobody to me like 'im—never was nor never will be. So there it is! And when 'e just vanished as you might say without so much as tippin' the wink to me, I was dead sure 'e 'adn't gone of 'is own accord. So I sets my wits to work the best I could, and I listens to talk and I reads all that blinkin' newspaper rot. Thinks I, looks as if them beastly pearls has somethin' to say in the business. So I asks meself: 'Oo's walked off with 'em, if any one, and is 'is Grice doin' a flit in the 'ope of trackin' the bloke down? If them pearls was ever in this 'ouse, they must 'ave gone out again. 'Oo could' a' done the trick?' Well, I never trusted Mam'selle the wye 'er Grice did. She 'ad the run o' the plice. It was just on the cards she might o' laid 'er 'ands on the combination for openin' the safe. 'Well, I puts that in my pipe an' smokes it. Strikes me she goes out a bit more reg'lar for 'er prominides with Beatty since that French Mounseer brought 'is packet o' pearls, than she used to do. So I 'as the curiosity to foller at a respectful distance one dye, an' sees m' lidy step into a French restorong. Not long after, comes along Mounseer of the pearls. I was sent to meet 'im at the dock, but missed 'im there, 'cause o' some mistike about 'is initials w'ere you wites for the Customs men. But I seed 'im 'ere at th' 'ouse later when I comes 'ome to report to 'is Grice. I recognized 'im alright. The question to my mind was w'ether 'e'd chose that restorong 'cause 'twas French or cause o' Mam'selle."
Jack's eyes flashed to Sanders, who smiled.
"You and I have been rivals in this game, Nickson," he remarked. "What conclusion did you come to about Mademoiselle?"
Nickson flushed. "Didn't know I was on your pitch, sir. But if yer asks me, in my opinion 'e comes for 'er. Or else she comes for 'im."
"A cat may look at a king!" said Sanders. "They're compatriots. Why shouldn't they meet?"
"On the other 'and, w'y should they?" ventured Nickson. "I wouldn't if I was 'im. And see 'ere, sir, beggin' your pardon, I know you're a detective, in a privit wye. I've told you all I done. But t'ain't all I want to do. I want to find 'is Grice. If you and the Captain make any frontal attack, so to speak, will you tike me along? I'd give my life for th' Dook. And I might come in 'andy, 'oo knows?"
"Who knows, indeed?" echoed Sanders. "But you shall have the chance of finding out when the time comes. And it may come soon—any day, any hour, even any minute. Now, if you think Mademoiselle's due back, I suggest that you leave us, as we've sent for her here. If there's anything in your suspicions, we don't want her to smell a rat."
"Right you are, sir, and thank you, sir!" said Nickson. "I'll be off and leave all clear."
"So, you actually suspect Simone? And Defasquelle!" Jack turned on Sanders when they were alone.