"Put that idea out of your head, my darling," urged Claremanagh. "Mayen had the seal, and of course it's on the cards that Defasquelle, his messenger, might have stolen it or had an imitation one made. But neither of them had the——"
Abruptly the Duke stopped. He had been talking fast and eagerly, and he pulled himself up so short that it was as if he stumbled. Juliet had been examining the quaint clasp of the false pearls, which she still had in her hand, but that shocked pause brought her eyes to her husband's face. It had been pale and strained, but now there was a look upon it of physical suffering.
"You've thought of the one who did it!" she cried. "Someone you care for!"
By an intense effort Claremanagh seemed to withdraw all expression from his face. It became dull, like a handsome mask. "I wish I had thought of any one," he said. "No such luck."
Juliet had pitied him unselfishly at first, for after all the pearls were his, not hers, and the loss—sentimental and material—would be very great if the Tsarina's pearls were gone. But his look, his changed tone, and the cloud that seemed to rise between them like a mist roused her vague resentment. She felt as if she had tried to comfort him and he had pushed her away.
"Pat!" she exclaimed, sharply. "It's no use your trying to put me off. You have thought who changed the pearls—or anyhow, of a person who might have done it. You've simply got to tell me. I have a right to know."
"My dear child," he protested. "You do spring to the wildest conclusions!"
Juliet's anger rose. "The whole thing is wild. Only wild conclusions are of any use. If you don't want me to try and help you, I won't. But I can't prevent myself from seeing one thing that perhaps you don't see yet. If the real thief isn't soon found, and this story gets out, there will be some horrid gossip about you."
Claremanagh flushed scarlet. "I do see," he said. "At least, I see what you're hinting at. If I purloin my own pearls, and secretly sell them, while getting credit at the same time for giving them to my wife, I bring off a very neat coup. That's what you mean, isn't it?"
The thing sounded so crudely villainous when put into words that Juliet was ashamed. But there was a fierce light in the eyes which until to-day had never looked at her except in love—or seeming love. Juliet would not let her husband fancy for an instant that he had made her flinch. "Yes, that's what I mean," she answered. "One's dear friends are capable of any insinuation."