Lyonnais yesterday to send her eighteen
thousand dollars. And she had expected that the French banking house
would have arranged for the payment of the money through its English
correspondent. But its telegram directed her to go to the United
Atlantic Express Company and receive the money.

A few minutes cleared the puzzle. The office of the company is on the
Strand above the Savoy. Mrs. Farmingham went to the manager and showed
him a lot of papers she had in an official-looking envelope. After a
good bit of official pother the porters carried out a big portmanteau, a
sort of heavy leather traveling case, and put it into the carriage. Mrs.
Farmingham came to Hargrave where he stood by the door.

"Now, what do you think!" she said. "Of all the stupid idiots, give me
a French idiot to be the stupidest; they have actually sent me eighteen
thousand dollars in gold!"

"Well," said Hargrave, "perhaps you asked them to send you eighteen
thousand dollars in gold."

She closed her mouth firmly for a moment and looked him vacantly in the
face.

"What did I do?" she said, in the old manner of addressing an inquiry
to herself. "The major wanted gold and perhaps I said gold. Why, yes, I
must have said I wanted eighteen thousand dollars in gold. Well, at any
rate, here's the money to pay you for the sapphires. I'll telegraph
the Credit Lyonnais to send me your eighteen hundred, and you can come
around to the Ritz for it in the morning."

She wished Hargrave to see that the telegram was properly worded, so the
stupid French would not undertake to ship another bag of coin to her.
He wrote it out, so there could be no mistake, and sent it from Charing
Cross on the way back to the club.

Hargrave had to get two porters to carry the leather portmanteau into
his room at the Empire Club. Mrs. Farmingham did not wait to receive the
sapphires. She said he could bring them over to the Ritz after he had
counted the money. She wanted a cup of tea; he could come along in an
hour.

It took Hargrave the whole of the hour to verify the money. The case had
been shipped, the straps were knotted tight and the lock was sealed. He
had to get a man from the outside to break the lock open. The man said
it was an American lock and he hadn't any implement to turn it.

There were eighteen thousand dollars in American twenty-dollar gold
pieces packed in sawdust in the bag. The Credit Lyonnais had followed
Mrs. Farmingham's directions to the letter.