"Play the combination always, Jenkins," he replied. "If I did the Raffles act alone, I should become the billionaire in this land of silk and money, your rich are so careless of their wealth—but where would my conscience be? On the other hand, if I stuck to the Holmes act exclusively, I'd starve to death; but the combination—ah—there is moderate fortune, my boy, with peace of mind thrown in."
Here he rose up, buttoned his coat about his spare figure, and reached out for his hat.
"I guess I'll tackle that case of the missing pendants to-morrow," he continued, flicking the ash from his cigar and gazing up at the ceiling with that strange twist in his eye which I had learned to regard as the harbinger of a dawning idea in his mind. "There's ten thousand dollars for somebody in that job, and you and I might as well have it as any one else."
"I'm ready," said I, as well I might be, for all I had to do in the matter was to record the adventure and take my half of the profits—no very difficult proceeding in either case.
"Good," quoth he. "I'll go to Gaffany & Co. to-morrow and offer my services."
"You have a clew?" I asked.
"I have an idea," he answered. "As for the lost diamonds, I know no more of their whereabouts than you do, but I shall be able beyond all question to restore to Gaffany & Co. two pendants just as good as those they have lost, and if I do that I am entitled to the reward, I fancy, am I not?"
"Most certainly," said I. "But where the dickens will you find two such stones? They are worth $50,000 apiece, and they must match perfectly the two remaining jewels which Gaffany & Co. have in their safe."
"I'll match 'em so closely that their own mother couldn't tell 'em apart," said Holmes, with a chuckle.
"Then the report that they are of such rarity of cut and lustre is untrue?"
I asked.