the fire-escape balcony, where the cool air or the
milk-driver's hail awakened you. Have you no recollection of seeing such
a thing?"

"Not the faintest, unhappily."

"Then he must have dropped it to the ground below," said Kirby.

"I don't think so," controverted Jones slowly. "Mr. Greene must have
been clinging to it tenaciously when it swung and caught against the
railing, stripping off the three end stones. If the whole necklace had
dropped it would have broken up fine, and more than three stones would
have returned to us in reply to the advertisements. And in that case,
too, the chances against the end stones alone returning, out of all
the thirty-six, are too unlikely to be considered. No, the fire-blue
necklace never fell to the ground."

"It certainly didn't remain on the balcony," said Kirby. "It would have
been discovered there."

"Quite so," assented Average Jones. "We're getting at it by the process
of exclusion. The necklace didn't fall. It didn't stay. Therefore?"--he
looked inquiringly at Mrs. Hale.

"It returned," she said quickly.

"With Mr. Greene," added Average Jones.

"I tell you," cried that gentleman vehemently, "I haven't set eyes on
the wretched thing."

"Agreed," returned Average Jones; "which doesn't at all affect the point
I wish to make. You may recall, Mr. Greene, that in my message I asked
you to pack your suitcase exactly as it was when you left the hotel with
it on the morning of August seventh."

"I've done so with the exception of the conjurer's chain, of course."

"Including the dressing-gown you had on, that night, I assume. Have you
worn it since?"

"No. It hung in my closet until yesterday, when I folded it to pack. You
see, I--I've had to give up the road on account of my unhappy failing."

"Then permit me." Average Jones stooped to, the dress-suit case, drew
out the garment and thrust his hand into its one pocket. He turned to
Mrs. Hale.

"Would you--er--mind--er--leaning over a bit?" he said.

She bent her dainty head, then gave a startled cry of delight as the
young man, with a swift motion, looped over her shoulders a chain of
living blue fires which gleamed and glinted in the sunlight.

"They were there all the time," she exclaimed; "and you knew it."

"Guessed it," he corrected, "by figuring out that they couldn't well
be elsewhere--unless on the untenable hypothesis that our friend, Mr.
Greene here, was a thief."

"Which only goes to prove," said Kirb