at night at Eastbourne.

"Well? So you've kept the appointment, Mr. Cottingham!" she laughed
cheerily as I sank into a chair beside her. "You'll order a drink and
pay for mine, eh?" she laughed.

Then when I had swallowed my liqueur, she suggested that we should
stroll down the boulevard and talk.

This we did. The proposition which she made without much preliminary
held me aghast.

"Though I like you very much, Mr. Cottingham," she said as we
conversed in low voices, "I cannot conceal from myself that you are a
thief. Well, now to be perfectly frank, I want a thief's help--and I
know that, as we are friends, you will assist me. You know my
inordinate love of jewels. Indeed, I wouldn't have married Owen if he
had not given me my pearls. And you know the other ornaments I
have--which I might very well never have seen again, eh?"

"I know," I said.

"Well, now, at the Continental there is at the present moment staying
a Madame Rodanet, the widow of the millionaire chocolate manufacturer.
She possesses among her jewels the famous Dent du Chat--the Cat's
Tooth Ruby. It is called so because it is a perfect stone and
curiously pointed, the only one of its kind in the world. I want it,
and you must get it for me--as the price of my silence regarding the
affair at Eastbourne."

I held my breath.

Her suggestion appalled me. I was to commit a second theft as the
price of the first! The pretty wife of the great Sheffield ironmaster
was a thief herself at heart! Truly, the situation was a strange and
bewildering one.

I protested, and pointed out the risk and difficulties, but she met
all my arguments with remarkable cleverness.

"I know Madame," she said. "I will make your path smooth for you, and
I myself will spirit the jewel out of France so that no possible
suspicion can attach to you," was her reply. "Will you leave it all to
me?"

We walked on down the well-lit boulevard, my brain a-whirl, until at
last, pressed hard by her, I consented to act as she directed.

I found, in the course of the next three days, that Lady Lydbrook's
whole life was centered upon the possession of jewels of great value,
and I was amazed to discover how very cleverly she plotted the coup
which I was to carry out.

One evening, after dinner, she introduced me casually to the rich
widow, an ugly overdressed old woman who was wearing as a pendant the
famous Dent du Chat. It was, to say the least, a wonderful gem. But I
passed as a