like any fool of a tourist avay from home for der feerst time."
"That is horrible, Baron," said I. "What have you done about it. Notified the police?"
"Yes. Und I haf had descriptions of t'ose gems sent to all der lapidaries. But I haf not much hope." And he mopped his big satanic face again, for the thought of his loss brought out the sweat.
"It is rough on Madame la Baronne," I muttered.
"It's awful. But, of course, she vill nefer know. I meant to gif her a surprise. Now I haf bought somet'ing else. It vas der best I could do, and I found anot'er bargain. Do you know anyt'ing about pearls? Dese are very fine."
He hauled a packet from an inner pocket, opened it and laid upon the little table—Edith's string of pearls.
Lord o' life! but two such shocks in ten minutes are bad for a man! It ain't good for his heart. This time Rosenthal's keen, mottled eyes saw the wild look in my face, and the big, bushy eyebrows went up again.
"Vat's der matter?" he asked.
I did not answer. My mouth felt dry. To most people one string of pearls looks very like another, but to an expert like myself they have as much individual expression as a horse to a racing man, or a boat to a sailor. I had noticed Edith's pearls minutely, and the moment my eyes rested on them there was no more doubt than a mother has when she looks into the face of her babe.
"Vell?" inquired Rosenthal, "you don't answer."
"I'm too much jolted," said I. "Baron, that
