"No such luck," said G.o.dfrey.

"Do you mean to say he'd give these up without a fight!"

The same thought was in my own mind; if G.o.dfrey had run down Crochard and got the diamonds, without a life-and-death struggle, that engaging rascal must be much less formidable than I had supposed.

"My dear Grady," said G.o.dfrey, "I haven't seen Crochard since the minute you took him off the boat. I'd have had him, if you had let Simmonds call me. That's what I had planned. But he was too clever for us. I knew that he would come to-day...."

"You knew that he would come to-day?" repeated Grady blankly. "How did you know that--or is it merely hot air?"

"I knew that he would come," said G.o.dfrey, curtly, "because he wrote and told me so."

M. Pigot laughed a dry little laugh.

"That is a favourite device of his," he said; "and he always keeps his word."

"The trouble was," continued G.o.dfrey, "that I didn't look for him so early in the day, and so he was able to send me on a wild-goose chase after a sensation that didn't exist. There's where I was a fool. But I discovered the secret drawer ten days ago--while the cabinet was still at Vantine's--the evening after the veiled lady got her letters. It was easy enough. I am surprised you didn't think of it, Lester."

"Think of what?" I asked.

"Of the key to the mystery. The drawer containing the letters was on the left side of the desk; I saw at once that there must be another drawer, opened in the same way, on the right side."

"I didn't see it," I said. "I don't see it yet."

"Think a minute. Why was Drouet killed? Because he opened the wrong drawer. He pressed the combination at the right side of the desk, instead of that at the left side. The fair Julie must have thought the drawer was on the right side, instead of the left. It was a mistake very easy to make, since her mistress doubtless had her back turned when Julie saw her open the drawer. The suspicion that it was Julie's mistake becomes certainty when she shows the combination to Vantine, and he is killed, too. Besides, the veiled lady herself made a remark which revealed the whole story."

"I didn't notice it," I said, resignedly. "What was it?"

"That she was accustomed to opening the drawer with her left hand, instead of with her right. After that, there could be no further doubt. So I discovered the drawer very simply. It had to be there."

"Yes," I said; "and then?"

"Then I removed the jewels, took them down to a dealer in paste gems and duplicated them as closely as I could. I had a hard time getting a good copy of this big rose-diamond."

He picked it from the heap and held it up between his fingers.

"It's a beauty, isn't it?" he asked.

M. Pigot smiled a dry smile.

"It is the Mazarin," he said, "and is worth three million francs.

There is a copy of it at the Louvre."

"So that's true, is it?" I asked. "Crochard told us the story."

"It is unquestionably true," said M. Pigot. "It is not a secret--it is merely something which every one has forgotten."

"Well," continued G.o.dfrey, "after I got the duplicates, I rolled them up in the cotton packets, and placed them back in the drawer, being careful to put the Mazarin at the bottom, where I had found it."

"It was lucky you thought of that," I said, "or Crochard would have suspected something."

G.o.dfrey looked at me with a smile.

"My dear Lester," he said, "he knew that the game was up the instant he opened the first packet. Do you suppose he would be deceived? Not by the best reproduction ever made!"

And then I remembered the slow flush which had crept into Crochard's cheeks as he opened that first packet!

"I didn't expect to deceive him," G.o.dfrey explained. "I just wanted to give him a little surprise. And to think I wasn't there to see it!"

"But if he knew they were imitations," I protested, "why should he go to all that trouble to steal them?"

"That is what puzzled me last night," said G.o.dfrey; "and, for that matter, it puzzles me yet."

"Maybe he's got the real stones, after all," suggested Grady, who had been listening to all this with incredulous countenance. "The story sounds fishy to me. Maybe these are the imitations."

M. Pigot came forward and picked up the Mazarin and looked at it.

"This one, at least, is real," he said, after a moment. "And I have no doubt the others are," he added, turning them over with his finger.

Grady, still incredulous, picked up one of the brilliants, went to the window, and drew it down the pane. It left a deep scratch behind it.

"Yes," he admitted reluctantly, "I guess they're diamonds, all right," and he sat down again.

"And now, gentlemen," continued G.o.dfrey, who had watched Grady's byplay with a tolerant smile, "I am ready to turn these diamonds over to you. I should like you to count them, and give me a receipt for them."

"And then, of course, you will write the story," sneered Grady, "and give yourself all the credit."

"Well," asked G.o.dfrey, looking at him, "do you think you deserve any?" And Grady could only crimson and keep silent. "As for the story, it is already written. It will be on the streets in ten minutes--and it will create a sensation. Please count the diamonds.

You will find two hundred and ten of them."

"That is the exact number stolen from the Grand Duke," remarked M.

Pigot, and fell to counting. The number was two hundred and ten.

"Mr. Shearrow has the receipt," G.o.dfrey added, and Shearrow took a paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and read the contents.

It proved to be not only a receipt, but a full statement of the facts of the case, without omitting the details of the robbery and the credit due the _Record_ for the recovery of the diamonds. Grady's face grew redder and redder as the reading proceeded.

"I won't sign no such testimonial as that," he bl.u.s.tered. "Not on your life I won't!"

"You will sign it, will you not, M. Pigot?" asked G.o.dfrey.

"Certainly," said the Frenchman; "it is a recognition of your services very well deserved," and he stepped forward and signed it with a flourish.

"Now, Simmonds," said G.o.dfrey.

"No you don't!" broke in Grady. "Stay where you are, Simmonds. I forbid you to sign that. Remember, I'm your superior officer."

"No, he's not, Simmonds," said G.o.dfrey, quietly. "He hasn't been an officer at all for an hour and more."