“Ah! so Monsieur Dumont is your father?” I remarked, with some reflection. “And did he have with him any jewels in London?”
“Yes. It was for that very reason we fear the worst. He went to London expressly to show some very valuable gems to the Princess Henry of Salzburg, at Her Highness’s order. She wanted them to wear at a Court in London.”
“And what was the value of the jewels?”
“They were diamonds and emeralds worth, they tell me at the magasin, over half a million francs.”
“And did nobody go with him to London?”
“Yes, Monsieur Martin, my father’s chief clerk. But he has also disappeared.”
“And the jewels—eh?”
“And also the jewels.”
“But may not this man Martin have got rid of your father somehow or other and decamped? That is a rather logical conclusion, isn’t it?”
“That is Monsieur Lepine’s theory; but”—and she turned to me very seriously—“I am sure, quite sure, Monsieur Martin would never be guilty of such a thing. He is far too devoted.”