ss
to know the history of each and every one in existence."

"Even those owned by Jephson's?" asked Arthur.

"Yes; unless they were acquired lately. I have spoken in this manner in
order that you may understand the statements I am about to make, and I
beg you to listen carefully: Three daring pearl robberies have taken
place within the past two years. The first was a collection scarcely
inferior to that of the Countess Ahmberg. A bank messenger was carrying
it through the streets of London one evening, to be delivered to Lady
Grandison, when he was stabbed to the heart and the gems stolen.
Singularly enough, Jack Andrews was passing by and found the dying
messenger. He called for the police, but when they arrived the messenger
had expired. The fate of the pearls has always remained a mystery,
although a large reward has been offered for their recovery."

"Oh; a reward."

"Naturally, sir. Four months later Princess Lemoine lost her wonderful
pearl necklace while sitting in a box at the Grand Opera in Paris. This
was one of the cleverest thefts that ever baffled the police, for the
necklace was never recovered. We know, however, that Jack Andrews
occupied the box next to that of the princess. A coincidence--perhaps. We
now come to the robbery of the Countess Ahmberg, the third on the list.
Jack Andrews was a guest at her house, as I have explained to you. No
blame has ever attached to this youthful adventurer, yet my firm, always
interested in the pearls they have sold, advised me to keep an eye on him
when he returned to America. I did so.

"Now, Mr. Merrick, I will add to the tale I told you the other night.
Andrews behaved very well for a few weeks after he landed at New York;
then he disposed of seven fine pearls and--disappeared. They were not
notable pearls, especially, but two of them I was able to trace to the
necklace of Princess Lemoine. I cabled my firm. They called attention to
the various rewards offered and urged me to follow Andrews. That was
impossible; he had left no clue. But chance favored me. Coming here to
Los Angeles on business, I suddenly ran across my quarry: Jack Andrews.
He has changed a bit. The mustache is gone, he is in poor health, and I
am told he was nearly drowned in the ocean the other day. So at first I
was not sure of my man. I registered at this hotel and watched him
carefully. Sometimes I became positive he was Andrews; at other times I
doubted. But when he began distributing pe