"Yes."
"That is your view?"
"Decidedly."
M. Desmalions produced a piece of tissue paper from his pocket and took from it a little blue stone, which he displayed.
"Here is a turquoise which we found in the safe. It belongs, without a shadow of a doubt, to the ring which you are wearing on your finger."
Don Luis was seized with a fit of rage. He half grated, through his clenched teeth:
"Oh, the rascals! How clever they are! But no, I can't believe—"
He looked at his ring, which was formed of a large, clouded, dead turquoise, surrounded by a circle of small, irregular turquoises, also of a very pale blue. One of these was missing; and the one which M. Desmalions had in his hand fitted the place exactly.
"What do you say?" asked M. Desmalions.
"I say that this turquoise belongs to my ring, which was given me by
Cosmo Mornington on the first occasion that I saved his life."