"No," I answered; "although I dare say he has plenty of use for his money."
"Perhaps he wanted to sell the diamonds."
"It is possible," said Quarles. "The stones were a means to some end. Just hand me paper and a pencil, Wigan. My theory grows. Is Lady Leconbridge still in town?"
"I believe she has gone to Grasslands, their seat in Worcestershire."
"Poor lady! The middle of the season, too. Read that, Wigan," and he passed me the paper on which he had been scribbling. I read it aloud:
"If the person who took, or found, the diamond necklace lost on the evening of Monday, the 14th inst., at the Duchess of Exmoor's house, in Park Lane, will return the same to Lord Leconbridge, at 190 Hill Street, the said person will save himself or herself all further trouble."
"Get Lord Leconbridge's consent to insert that in the papers," said Quarles. "If he presses you for a reason, you can say that an entirely innocent person is likely to be saved from grave suspicion."
"If you think that Lady Leconbridge is——"
"I do not fancy I mention her name there," said Quarles sharply. "We are after the truth; and, Wigan, when the diamonds are returned, tell Lord Leconbridge not to mention the fact to anyone—anyone, mind, until you have seen them. When you go to see them I want to go with you. You must arrange that as best you can."
I had considerable difficulty in getting Lord Leconbridge to agree to the insertion of this notice, and his reluctance certainly gave support to part of the professor's theory. It looked as if he were bent on concealing some point of importance.