Dory was a little overcome. Lady Mary shook him heartily by the hand, but as they trooped downstairs she stooped and whispered in Peter Ruff’s ear.
“I wonder how much of this was John Dory,” she said, smiling.
Peter Ruff said nothing. The detective was already on the telephone, wiring his report to London. Every one was standing about in little knots, discussing this wonderful event. Sogrange sought Lord Clenarvon, and walked with him, arm in arm, down the stairs.
“I cannot tell you, Clenarvon,” he said, “how sorry I am that I should have been the means of introducing a person like this to the house. I had the most excellent references from the Prince of Strelitz. No doubt they were forged. My own man was taken ill just before I left, and I had to bring some one.”
“My dear Sogrange,” Lord Clenarvon said, “don’t think of it. What we must be thankful for is that we had so brilliant a detective in the house.”
“As John Dory?” Sogrange remarked, with a smile. Lord Clenarvon nodded.
“Come,” he said, “I don’t see why we should lose a day’s sport because the diamonds have been recovered. I always felt that they would turn up again some day or other. You are keen, I know, Sogrange.”
“Rather!” the Marquis answered. “But excuse me for one moment. There is Mrs. Ruff looking charming there in the corner. I must have just a word with her.”
He crossed the room and bowed before Violet.
“My dear lady,” he said, “I have come to congratulate you. You have a clever husband—a little cleverer, even, than I thought. I have just had the misfortune to lose to him a bet of twenty-five thousand francs.”