Dessaure, unnerved by the loss of the jewels, for the sake of which he had served those long years of imprisonment, was as a child in the hands of the shrewd Brissard, and very soon the two men were talking the matter over in Brissard's rooms. Dessaure now told the entire story of how he had stolen the jewels, and the detective in turn informed him that the large reward offered for their recovery was still open, and that, if Dessaure cared to assist him, they might yet obtain possession of them and return them to their owner. The ex-valet, eager to obtain revenge against the unknown who had annexed "his" property, readily agreed. So the curious situation arose of "setting a thief to catch a thief."
Next morning Detective Brissard made diligent inquiries as to the movements of the Morant family, and these inquiries led to what developed into the longest chase on record. Just one year after Dessaure's conviction, it appeared, the former wine-shop proprietor had sold his business in the Rue de Mesrominil and removed with his wife and daughter to London, where he opened a restaurant in Greek Street, Soho, but, curiously enough, under another name. He had been in business there for some months, when one day a former customer at the Paris wine-shop entered and recognised M. "Martin," the proprietor, as Morant. He thought nothing of this, as people often change their names for business purposes when in other countries. But what did strike the customer was the fact that Mme. "Martin" was wearing a pair of earrings of very great value. Now where did Morant, who had owned only a third-class wine-shop in Paris, get possession of jewels worth at least several thousand pounds—for madame wore also several costly rings and a brooch? The customer jocularly remarked that M. "Martin" must have "backed a winner." The latter, instead on answering in like manner, turned pale, and gruffly told his former patron to mind his own business. Within three days the little restaurant in Greek Street had changed hands, and the "Martin" family disappeared.
"HE RUSHED OUT OF THE PLACE, KNOCKING OVER A WAITER IN HIS HEADLONG FLIGHT."
All this Detective Brissard learnt by judicious inquiries in Soho, London. Then the search for M. Morant began in real earnest. Dessaure made friends with many of the French people in this part of London, ever seeking information. The owner of the restaurant formerly run by "Martin" was not the man who had purchased the place from him. His predecessor, however, was, and could be found at an address in Brussels. To this city Detective Brissard now went, leaving Dessaure in London. Yes; the Belgian knew where M. "Martin" had gone, for a trunk was left behind which he had sent to a house in Houston Street, New York City, U.S.A. Also, the daughter of M. "Martin" was living, he believed, in Brussels, she having married a travelling jeweller.
Brissard cabled to America, and received an answer from the American police to the effect that the address given was the office of a transfer company, and they were looking over the books to see what disposal had been made of the trunk. Brissard next began a search for the former Mlle. Morant in Brussels. As, however, there were some hundreds of jewellers in that city, this was no small undertaking. Successful detectives often admit that "luck" is a potent factor in their work, and the French detective now experienced a little good fortune. The various cities prominent as diamond markets are possessed of clubs at which congregate buyers and sellers of precious stones, and which also serve the purpose of a market where the members do business among themselves. With the assistance of a Belgian official, Brissard was introduced into such a club in Brussels, and here he learnt that a young Belgian—not a member, but a good judge of stones—had married a French girl named Martin. The fact was remembered because the young man had, shortly after his marriage, become possessed of several uncommonly valuable emeralds and diamonds. This man's address was given to M. Brissard, who at once called there—first, however, changing his appearance as a measure of precaution.
The jeweller was not at home, he learnt; he was in Amsterdam, but was returning on the morrow. M. Brissard, posing as a brother jeweller, said he would call again. The lady of the house now came forward, and asked if there was anything she could do. One glance was enough for the detective—she was the daughter of the man Brissard was searching for! But he still was a long way from M. Morant himself, as after events proved.
Calling the next day in company with a Belgian detective officer, M. Brissard was ushered in and presently the jeweller came into the room. The detective briefly made known his business, informing the jeweller that it rested with him whether he would be arrested or not, for it was known that some of the stolen jewels had been in his keeping. Thereupon the man told a most straightforward story to the following effect.
He had been to London on business, and took his meals as usual in the locality frequented by his compatriots, dining at "Martin's." There he met his present wife, they fell in love with each other, and he was accepted as a prospective son-in-law. Being an authority on the value of precious stones, M. "Martin" confided to him that an aged sister had left him a few heirlooms, her husband having been a wealthy man. Would his future son-in-law appraise them? He had done so, greatly surprised at their value and size, and had further, shortly after his marriage, undertaken to sell several unset stones for his father-in-law. His wife was absolutely ignorant of all this, and not until that moment did he know that her real name was other than Martin.
The young woman was called and questioned, and it soon became evident that she knew nothing of her father's affairs. He had changed his name and impressed upon her that under no circumstances must she use the name of Morant, and thus she had been led to deceive even her husband. The gems given him for disposal, the jeweller added, had been sold in Amsterdam to a buyer there, a Mr. H. Van Kloof, for twenty thousand francs (eight hundred pounds). He had not heard from his father-in-law for two years, his last address being in Second Avenue, New York City. M. Brissard, convinced of the truth of this story, took his leave, after having given certain instructions to the Belgian detectives.