"Certainly a most extraordinary thing," Barmouth said. "I rather gather from the expression of your face that you have some solution to offer."
"Indeed I have," Jack said eagerly. "This is merely a trick to gain time, and an exceedingly clever trick, too. Carrington had naturally assumed that we know nothing of his desperate position. If we were in the dark on that point, the mistake would look exceedingly natural. But, knowing what we do, the situation is entirely changed. I don't believe those are the Duchess of Birmingham's diamonds--I don't believe they are diamonds at all."
"By Jove! You have hit it exactly," Barmouth cried. "What a really magnificent idea! Carrington has no diamonds; therefore he lays out, say, a couple of hundred pounds in some showy-looking paste, and sends them round here as my wife's gems. She, absolutely innocent of any deception, sends them back and asks to have the mistake rectified. Back from the bank comes a polite note of regret apologizing for the mistake, and promising the proper stones for to-morrow, the cashier having left for the day."
"Exactly my idea," Jack cried. "But we can soon settle that, Lord Barmouth. You have only to telephone to your family jeweler, and ask him to step round here for a moment."
Barmouth fell in with the suggestion at once, and a telephone message was dispatched to the famous firm of Flint & Co., in Bond Street. Mr. Flint himself arrived a few minutes later, and the dubious gems were laid before him. He had not the slightest hesitation in giving his verdict.
"Paste, my lord," he said briefly, "and pretty poor stuff at that. I can see that, even in this dim light. See how dull these stones are! Real gems, even in semi-gloom, shimmer and sparkle, but these don't show up at all. The whole lot did not cost more than two hundred pounds; in fact, these things are little better than stage jewels."
"Can you tell us where they come from?" Jack asked.
"Certainly I can, sir," Mr. Flint replied, promptly. "There are occasions when clients of ours are compelled to exchange the real for the false. In cases like that we go to Osmond & Co., of Clerkenwell, where these came from. I hope there is nothing wrong."
Barmouth said politely that that matter could be discussed on a future occasion. He would not detain Mr. Flint any more for the present, and the latter bowed himself out of the room.
"What do you propose to do now?" Barmouth asked.