"He is accused, and he must prove his innocence," said he.
"But that is nonsense!" interposed Arthur warmly. "There is no justice in such an assertion. If I know anything of the purpose of the law, and I think I do, you must first prove this man's guilt before you carry him to Austria to be tried by a foreign court."
"I don't care a snap for the purpose of the law," retorted Le Drieux. "Our treaty with Austria provides for extradition, and that settles it. This man is already under arrest. The judge who issued the warrant believes that Jones is Jack Andrews and that Jack Andrews stole the pearls from the Countess Ahmberg. Of course, the prisoner will have a formal examination, when he may defend himself as best he can, but we haven't made this move without being sure of our case, and it will be rather difficult for him to escape the penalty of his crimes, clever as he is."
"Clever?" It was Jones himself who asked this, wonderingly.
Le Drieux bowed to him with exaggerated politeness.
"I consider you the cleverest rogue in existence," said he. "But even the cleverest may be trapped, in time, and your big mistake was in disposing of those pearls so openly. See here," he added, taking from his pocket a small packet. "Here are the famous Taprobane pearls—six of them—which were found in your room a half hour ago. They, also, were a part of the countess' collection."
"Oh, you have been to my room?"
"Under the authority of the law."
"And you have seen those pearls before?"
"Several times. I am an expert in pearls and can recognize their value at a glance," said Le Drieux with much dignity.