"Yes. I have been travelling constantly of late."
"After the affair of the jeweller, Benoy—eh? Where were you at that time?"
"In Marseilles, awaiting my uncle. We crossed to Algiers together. Thence we went along to Alexandria, and on to Cairo, where we met our friends."
"It was a dastardly business. I read of it in the Matin," I said.
"Brutal—horrible!" declared the girl. "But is not my uncle an inhuman brute—a fearless, desperate man, who carries out, with utter disregard of human life, the amazing plots which are formed by one who is the master of all the criminal arts."
"Then he is not the prime mover of all these ingenious thefts?" I exclaimed in some surprise, for I had always believed Jules Jeanjean to be the head of that international band.
"No. He acts under the direction of another, a man of amazing ingenuity and colossal intellect. It is he who cleverly investigates, and gains knowledge of those who possess rare jewels; he who watches craftily for opportunities, who so carefully plans the coups, and who afterwards arranges for the stones to be re-cut in Antwerp or Amsterdam."
"Who is he?" I asked eagerly. "You may tell me in confidence. I will not betray your secret."
"He poses as a dealer in precious stones in London."
"In London?"