"Yes, yours; but this is not yours."
"Where is mine, then?"
"In the hands of Arsène Lupin."
"And this one?"
"This one was put in its place and slipped into Herr Bleichen's tooth-powder flask, where you found it."
"Then it's an imitation?"
"Absolutely."
Nonplussed and overwhelmed, the countess said nothing more, while her husband, refusing to believe the statement, turned the jewel over and over in his fingers. She finished by stammering out:
"But it's impossible! Why didn't they just simply take it? And how did they get it?"
"That's just what I mean to try to discover."