stones."

Cornelia stood stock-still, staring hard at the little pearl brooch, a
hundred vague doubts and dreads which had previously been resolutely
thrust aside, darting back into her mind with a new and terrible
significance. She felt stunned and bewildered, but the predominant
sensation was the necessity for caution. She must be certain of what
had happened before she presumed to judge. She rallied all her self-
possession, and was surprised at the natural sound of her own voice as
she replied--

"What makes you speak of my father, Mr Marchant? Did I mention to you
at any time that he was fond of emeralds?"

"I believe you did on one occasion, but it was your reference this
morning to which I alluded." Mr Marchant drew out his pocket-book and
selected one letter from the contents. "This is it, I think. Yes! You
say--`I have just received a cable permission from my father, Mr Edward
B Briskett, to purchase the emerald necklace.' I was referring to this
quotation, rather than any casual remark."

Cornelia leant over the counter and read the words with her own eyes;
saw the signature of her own name written below in Mrs Moffatt's
handwriting.

"Why, of course! I forgot. I never do remember what I write," she said
calmly.

She was sure now; there was no longer any reason for doubt! The
everlasting shopping expeditions; the purchase of a succession of
worthless trifles; the exploiting of her own wealth, had all been
designed to create a confidence which would prepare the way for such a
_coup_ as the present. And this morning she had been deliberately
decoyed out of the way, while the last scene of the comedy was enacted.
The messages were plainly a ruse, while the different rendezvous would
have provided a further detention, allowing the conspirators plenty of
time to decamp.

Once opened, Cornelia's eyes were wonderfully keen. She understood now
why the goods which it was inconvenient to harbour in a hotel had been
constantly despatched to the keeping of "a friend." She realised that
she had been cheated--doubly cheated--in first giving a cheque for two
hundred pounds, and afterwards in counting out change for a worthless
return.

"I need never fancy myself again after this! I'm just the greenest
peach on the wall!" she told herself furiously, but through all the
anger and shock, the necessity for caution remained predominant in her
mind. Mr Marchant must not suspect that anything was wrong.