Simone had scraped acquaintance with her countryman. He had complained of the Duke's carelessness and lack of consideration in refusing to break the seals of the packet. Then a dazzling idea had come to Simone. The packet, Defasquelle said, had been flung into a wall-safe. Simone knew all about that safe! She knew also where the Duchess (as careless in some ways as the Duke) kept the combination jotted down on a bit of paper. Defasquelle could not be suspected (she pointed out), as he had earnestly implored the Duke to open the package in his presence. Nor was there the least danger for herself. She was completely trusted. It would be tempting Providence not to seize such an opportunity of fortune! As for "stealing," that was not the word. These pearls didn't properly belong to the Claremanaghs. They should have been returned to the Russian Crown. Now, there was no Russian crown. The pearls belonged to no one—unless to those with pluck enough to take them.
According to Defasquelle, those were Simone's arguments. And he saw too late that she'd drawn him into the intrigue instead of managing it alone, drawn him in so as to hold him in her power—and get a husband at the sword's point! He, in his heart, had thought of the girl at Marseilles. The one objection to him there was his lack of money. The girl's father accused him of presenting his prospects in too rosy colours. If the pearls could be disposed of as Mademoiselle vowed they could even known as they were, over the world, the future would be ideal.
Simone had opened the safe with the aid of her mistress's memorandum, Defasquelle having gone away and come back again. To their surprise they had found, on the same shelf with the packet, a rope of great blue pearls. At first Defasquelle had taken them for the genuine ones, though the seals on the packet appeared intact. But Simone was an expert in pearls, like the Duchess. A simple test had shown that the rope was a copy. As for the clasp, neither thought of the difference in the watching eye; and it seemed to both that the "find" was almost a miracle in their favour.
The Duchess—argued Simone—was unlikely to suspect a substitution. She would not test the pearls, and might wear them for months or years without guessing that they weren't genuine. Meanwhile, Simone would leave her service, and never need to take a place again. She would go home to France and live on her share from the sale of the pearls.
The Duke being absent, and the Duchess, too, she and Defasquelle could work safely in the study. Simone had some red sealing wax; and the Duke's famous ring lay on the desk where he'd left it after displaying the design to Mayen's messenger. Simone had thought of everything—even to a pair of rubber gloves which she used when cleaning her mistress's gold toilet things. These gloves she had put on before touching the safe, the packet, or the seal ring. And having opened the packet she had made Defasquelle smoke one of the Duke's special brand of cigarettes to scent the handkerchief wrapped round the jewel case. If worst came to worst, and suspicion were excited, let it fall upon the Duke himself, and Lyda Pavoya.
Then, that very night, suspicion had fallen!
The Duchess had discovered that the pearls were false. Simone had overheard snatches of talk between her and the Duke, and it had seemed well to mention Pavoya's visit in order that Lyda might be suspected from the beginning. Also, Simone had felt it safe to give the whole story to the Inner Circle. The Duke and Duchess had quarrelled, so why not? She would get extra pay. And soon she would be leaving the Claremanaghs forever.
One of her first thoughts in connection with the pearls was to hint in the office at having secured a great treasure, to sell for a comparatively low price. If the invisible editor rose to the bait, as Simone hoped he might, she would be saved much trouble and danger: also she would have protection in case of trouble.
She had been right about the bait; but once she was in his power the man put on the screw, and too late Simone regretted applying to him. Defasquelle reproached her bitterly, and they quarrelled, yet he could not break free. Simone held him in chains, as both were held by the Inner Circle. The fortune she had visioned dwindled to a few thousand dollars which were all the Inner Circle men would pay for "stolen property." This was maddening, because the fortune would go to them. There was nothing to do, however, save consent.
It was by Defasquelle's suggestion, Simone vowed, that she'd sent an anonymous letter to the Duke, mentioning an hour when the illusive editor could be found, and at the same time warning the editor himself that violence might be expected. If the Duke were "smashed up" there would be just half the danger to face in future; and Defasquelle owed him a grudge for laughing at his first request which, if granted, would have saved him from temptation.