Almost the first person to call at Park Lane and express his sorrow was the well-dressed, soft-speaking and refined Mr Rex Rutherford. It was about eleven o’clock. Elma heard a ring at the door, and afterwards asked Hughes who was the caller.
“Mr Rutherford, miss,” was the old man’s reply.
The girl said nothing, but she wondered why he should call upon her father so early in the morning.
Two days later the white-bearded old Moorish Minister Mohammed ben Mussa was seated with his secretary, a young Frenchman, in his hotel in the Rue de Rivoli, in Paris, when a waiter entered, saying:
“Madame Crisp has called, Your Excellency.”
In an instant the old man’s face became illuminated, and he gave orders to show the lady in.
“It is the lady I met on the boat between Dover and Calais. Her necklet had been stolen, and she was naturally in tears. We travelled together from Calais to Paris,” he explained. “She is a very intelligent English society woman, and I asked her to call.”
The French secretary, who had been engaged at the Ministry in Fez for some years, bowed as his new master spoke.
In a few moments Freda Crisp, elegantly-dressed, swept into the luxurious room.
“Ah! So here you are!” she cried in French, which she spoke extremely well. “I promised I would call. Do you know, the French police are so much cleverer than the English! They have already arrested the thief and returned my necklet to me!”