Ivan pushed himself back in his chair and the colour went out of his face. His eyes narrowed.
"Do your friends suspect you?" he muttered.
"I can't tell. But they consider the loss to have come as the result of what they did for me, and that very act of theirs ties their hands. Worst of all, those pearls were the entire fortune of a poor girl, a penniless music-teacher. Her father died bankrupt, and these pearls that she had from her mother was all that she saved. I am telling you the truth. Of course, a consistent thief doesn't consider the sentimental side. But there were other things to be considered in this job, principally myself."
Ivan stared at me for a moment in silence. His face was set and he tugged at the waxed end of his black moustache.
"What makes you think that I managed the affair?" he asked.
I made a tired gesture.
"That's too easy," said I. "You took out Miss Dalghren at the Billings dinner. You probably doped her drink. Then you set Chu-Chu on the job. I'm not altogether a fool."
Ivan's handsome face relaxed. His eyes were clouded and he rubbed the point of his chin. Then he reached for an inner pocket, hauled out a package in white tissue paper, and tossed it into my lap.
"Here," said he, "take them, Mr. Clamart You are quite right. It was a rotten business. I hated it from the start."
"Thank you," said I. "To tell you the truth I was pretty sure that it wasn't your idea. Léontine
