"What did he do with them--afterwards?" asked Spargo. "He put them in
his waistcoat pocket--in a very small wash-leather bag, from which he
had taken them. There were, in all, sixteen or twenty stones--not more,
and they were all small. I advised him to see some expert--I mentioned
Streeter's to him. Now, I can tell you how he got hold of Mr. Breton's
address."

The two young men pricked up their ears. Spargo unconsciously tightened
his hold on the pencil with which he was making notes.

"He got it from me," continued Mr. Aylmore. "The handwriting on the
scrap of paper is mine, hurriedly scrawled. He wanted legal advice. As
I knew very little about lawyers, I told him that if he called on Mr.
Breton, Mr. Breton would be able to tell him of a first-class, sharp
solicitor. I wrote down Mr. Breton's address for him, on a scrap of
paper which he tore off a letter that he took from his pocket. By the
by, I observe that when his body was found there was nothing on it in
the shape of papers or money. I am quite sure that when I left him he
had a lot of gold on him, those diamonds, and a breast-pocket full of
letters."

"Where did you leave him, sir?" asked Spargo. "You left the hotel
together, I believe?"

"Yes. We strolled along when we left it. Having once met, we had much
to talk of, and it was a fine night. We walked across Waterloo Bridge
and very shortly afterwards he left me. And that is really all I know.
My own impression----" He paused for a moment and Spargo waited
silently.