"The devil! Chain Lightning's Collar!" cried Harrowby.
"Back to its original storage vault," said Minot. "What is this, Harrowby? A Drury Lane melodrama?"
"My word. I can't make it out."
"Can't you? Got the necklace back this morning with a note from Martin Wall, saying I dropped it last night in the scrap on the deck of the Lileth."
"Confound the thing!" sighed Harrowby, staring morosely at the diamonds.
"My first impulse," said Minot, "is to hand the necklace back to you and gracefully withdraw. But of course I'm here to look after Jephson's interests—"
"Naturally," put in Harrowby quickly. "And let me tell you that should this necklace be found before the wedding, Jephson is practically certain to pay that policy. I think you'd better keep it. They're not likely to search you again. If I took it—dear old chap—they search me every little while."
"You didn't steal this, did you?" Minot asked.
"Of course not." Harrowby flushed a delicate pink. "It belongs in our family—has for years. Everybody knows that."
"Well, what is the trouble?"