paper. But before I could say so
Dudley burst out with the same truculence he had used about Billy Jones:

"What d'ye mean Stretton must have heard?"

"Only that Mrs. Houston took a fancy to Valenka and had her down to ride
and dance at a week-end party at her house in Long Island; that on
Sunday morning, Jimmy Van Ruyne, one of the guests, was found in
Valenka's room, soaked with morphine and robbed--not only of the cash in
his pocket in the good old way, but of an emerald necklace he had just
bought at Tiffany's; and that, to this day, no one has ever laid eyes on
that necklace nor on Valenka. She's free and red-handed somewhere, if no
one ever found out who railroaded her and Van Ruyne's emeralds out of
the United States!"

What sent Dudley into a blazing rage was beyond me. But he fairly yelled
at Macartney.

"Free she may be, but when you say 'red-handed' you say a lie! If Jimmy
Van Ruyne was fool enough to think so, it was because no Van Ruyne ever
could see a. b. spelled ab. D'ye know him? Well," as Macartney shook his
head, "he's a rotter, if ever there was one! Got more money than he
knows what to do with and always chasing after women. As for Valenka,
if you think she came out of a circus and was fair game, that's a lie,
too! She was a lady, born and bred. Her mother was American, a Miss
Bocqueraz; and her father was one of the best known men in Petrograd,
and _persona grata_ with one of the Grand Dukes till he got into some
sort of political disgrace and died of it. His daughter came to America
and danced and rode for her living. First because she was beggared; and
second because she'd been taught dancing in the Imperial School at
Petrograd and riding in the Grand Duchess Tatiana's private ring for
_haute manege_; and was a corker at both. She called herself plain
Valenka, and Jimmy Van Ruyne went crazy about her--though Mrs. Houston
didn't know it, or she never would have asked the nasty little cad to a
spring week-end party."

"To lose an emerald necklace and be stabbed and drugged," commented
Macartney drily. "Oh, I'm not saying the Valenka girl wasn't a
marvellous sight on a horse! But what Van Ruyne told the police was that
he gave his string of emeralds to her on the Saturday afternoon, and got
a note from her just after dinner saying that she returned them; only
the case--in the time-honored method this time--was empty when he opened
it! He was blazing. He went straight up to Valenka's room when