'Just so. Thank you. One more question, if I may. That stone I gave you, I swear I don't know that it's not glass—anyhow, that stone, does it look at all like the one that was stolen?'
'Oh, no! It's quite another shape and size. Why do you ask? I don't quite see.'
'What I mean is, if these people are around selling rubies, there may be two very much alike, that's all.'
'Well, if there were? What of it?'
'Suppose—I'm only supposing, mind, that the girl really had another stone about her a good deal like the one that was stolen, and that somebody else was the thief. Queer things like that have happened before.'
'Yes. But old Pinney is one of the first experts in the world, and he swore to the ruby.'
'That's so,' said Van Torp thoughtfully. 'I forgot that.'
'And if she had the other stone, she had stolen it from Monsieur Logotheti, I have not the least doubt.'
'I daresay,' replied the millionaire. 'I'm not her attorney. I'm not trying to defend her. I was only thinking.'
'She was at his house in Paris,' Margaret said, quite unable to keep her own counsel now. 'It was when I was at Versailles.'