ell, then, the reason I am so certain of Monsieur Martin's honesty is
because--because I--I'm engaged to be married to him;" and she blushed
deeply as she made the admission.

"Oh, I see! Now I begin to understand."

"Yes. Has he not more than half a million francs at stake?--for I am my
father's only child."

"Certainly, that places a fresh complexion on matters," I said; "but
does Monsieur your father know of the engagement?"

"_Mon Dieu!_ no! I--I dare not tell him. Monsieur Martin is only a
clerk, remember."

"And how long has he been in the service of the house?"

"Not a year yet."

I was silent. There was trickery somewhere without a doubt, but where?

As the especial line of the debonnair Count Bindo di Ferraris and his
ingenious friends was jewellery, I could not help regarding as curious
the coincidence that the daughter of the missing man was travelling in
secret with me to the Riviera. But why, if the _coup_ had really already
been made in London, as it seemed it had, we should come out to the
Riviera and mix ourselves up with Pierrette and the mysterious Madame
Vernet was beyond my comprehension. To me it seemed a distinct peril.

"Didn't the Princess purchase any of the jewels of your father?" I
asked. "Tell me the facts as far as you know them."

"Well, as soon as they found poor father and Monsieur Martin missing
they sent over Monsieur Boullanger, the manager, to London, and he
called upon Her Highness at Claridge's Hotel--I think that was where she
was staying. She said that after making the appointment with my father
she was compelled to go away to Scotland, and could not keep it until
the morning of the day on which he disappeared. My father, accompanied
by Monsieur Martin, called upon her and showed her the gems. One diamond
tiara she liked, but it was far too expensive; therefore she decided
to have nothing, declaring that she could buy the same thing cheaper
in London. The jewels were repacked in the bag, and taken away. That
appears to be the last seen of them. Four hours later my father left
the Hotel Charing Cross alone, got into a cab, drove away, and nobody
has seen him since. Monsieur Boullanger is still in London making
inquiries."

"And now, mademoiselle, permit me to ask you a question," I said,
looking straight at her. "How came you to be acquainted with Mr.
Bellingham?"

Her countenance changed instantly. Her well-marked brows contracted
slightly, and I saw that she had so