Esmé slipped the pendant into her bag as the maid turned away. The Blakeneys drove her to Jules, where she said she would be lunching.
But, not hungry, she went on to Benhusan, a well-known jeweller, offering her pendant.
The head man took it, looking at the heavy stones.
"Yes, we could give two hundred for this, to break up. It's tasteless." He examined it carefully. "Came from us, originally," he said. "We all have our private mark, madam. Made to order, no doubt. I'll speak to Mr Benhusan, madam. One moment."
Esmé flushed with annoyance. They might look up the pendant, perhaps speak of it to someone.
She got two hundred and thirty for it and went out.
Mr Benhusan nodded at the heavy bauble. "It was made for the Dowager Lady Blakeney," he said. "I remember it. The centre stone is worth all the money we have given for it."
Absently, with a lack of her usual shrewdness, Esmé went to the door, opened it, and remembered her notes; they had paid her.
She had put three into her bag, when a thin hand shot out, grabbed the rest, and before she could even cry out, the thief was lost in the crowd.
Esmé stood stricken, shaking more with futile anger than anything else. Her brains were quick. If she went back, raised the hue and cry, what then? Bertie would ask her what pendant she was selling. The whole thing would come out.