‘Do you know anything of this affair, Mr. Lemuel?’ the magistrate asked, with an off-hand friendliness, when the witness had been sworn, as much as to say, ‘It is really uncommonly good of you to trouble yourself about a fellow-creature’s fate; and I want to make the thing as light and as pleasant as I can, for your sake.’
‘I think I may be able to afford a clue to the motive of the murderer,’ said Mr. Lemuel, who seemed more moved than the occasion warranted. ‘I presented the unhappy lady with a necklace about a week before her death; and I have reason to fear that this gift may have been the cause of her terrible death!’
‘Was the necklace of such value as to tempt a murderer?’
‘It was not. But, to an uneducated eye, it appeared of great value. It was a gift which I offered to a lady whose talents I—as one of the outside public—enthusiastically admired.’
‘Naturally,’ assented the magistrate, as much as to say, ‘Don’t be frightened, my dear sir. I am not going to ask you any awkward questions.’
‘It was a necklace I had bought in Paris, in the Palais Royal, a short time before. It was made by a man who had a speciality for these things. It would perhaps have deceived any eye except that of a diamond merchant, and might indeed have deceived a dealer, if he had judged by the eye alone. I gave fifty pounds for the necklace. It was exquisitely set, and really a work of art.’
‘Did Madame Chicot suppose the stones were real?’
‘I don’t know, I told her nothing about the necklace. It seemed to me a suitable offering to an actress, to whom appearances are as important as realities.’
‘Madame Chicot made no inquiry as to the intrinsic value of your gift?’
‘None. It was offered and accepted in silence.’