he guard under Captain Siebert turned over the treasures to the
governor of the Bank of France.

Instantly absolute secrecy was ordered, which I, for one, believed to
be a great mistake. Yet the Emperor desired it, doubtless for the same
reasons which always led him to suppress any affair which might give
the public an idea that the opposition to the government was worthy of
the government's attention.

So the news of the robbery never became public property, but from one
end of France to the other the gendarmerie, the police, local,
municipal, and secret, were stirred up to activity.

Within forty-eight hours, an individual answering Buckhurst's
description had sold a single enormous diamond for two hundred and
fifty thousand francs to a dealer in Strasbourg, a Jew named Fishel
Cohen, who, counting on the excitement produced by the war and the
topsy-turvy condition of the city, supposed that such a transaction
would create no interest.

Mr. Cohen was wrong; an hour after he had recorded the transaction at
the Strasbourg Diamond Exchange he and the diamond were on their way
to Paris, in charge of a detective. A few hours later the stone was
identified at the Tuileries as having been taken from the famous
crucifix of Louis XI.

From Fishel Cohen's agonized description of the man who had sold him
the diamond, Colonel Jarras believed he recognized John Buckhurst. But
how on earth Buckhurst had obtained access to the jewels, or how he
had managed to spirit away the cross from the very centre of the
Tuileries, could only be explained through the theory of accomplices
among the trusted intimates of the imperial entourage. And if there
existed such a conspiracy, who was involved?

It is violating no secret now to admit that every soul in the
Tuileries, from highest to lowest, was watched. Even the governor of
the Bank of France did not escape the attentions of the secret police.
For it was certain that somebody in the imperial confidence had
betrayed that confidence in a shocking manner, and nobody could know
how far the conspiracy had spread, or who was involved in the most
daring and shameless robbery that had been perpetrated in France since
Cardinal de Rohan and his gang stole the celebrated necklace of Marie
Antoinette.

Nor was it at all certain that the remaining jewels of the French
crown were safe in Paris. The precautions taken to insure their
safety, and the result of those precautions, are matters of histo