sleight of hand--a skill which only the smartest pickpocket in Europe
could possess--why should a thief who had stolen my letter-case give me
instead a string of diamonds worth many thousands of pounds? If he
wanted to put something into my pocket of much the same size and shape
as the thing he stole, so that I shouldn't suspect my loss, why didn't
he slip in the red case _empty_, instead of containing the necklace?"

"_This_ necklace, too, of all things in the world!" murmured Maxine,
lost in the mystery. "It's like a dream. Yet here--by some miracle--it
is, in our hands. And the treaty is gone."

"The treaty is gone," I repeated, miserably.

It was Maxine herself who had spoken the words which I merely echoed,
yet it almost killed her to hear them from me. No doubt it gave the
dreadful fact a kind of inevitability. She flung herself down on the
sofa with a groan, her face buried in her hands.

"My God, what a punishment!" she stammered. "I've ruined the man I
risked everything to save. I will go to the theatre, and I will act
to-night, my friend, but unless you can give me back what is lost, when
to-morrow morning comes, I shall be out of the world."

"Don't say that," I implored, sick with pity for her and shame at my
failure. "All hope isn't over yet; it can't be. I'll think this out.
There must be a solution. There must be a way of laying hold of what
_seems_ to be gone. If by giving my life I could get it, I assure you I
wouldn't hesitate for an instant, now: so you see, there's nothing I
won't do to help you. Only, I wish the path could be made a little
plainer for me--unless for some reason it's necessary for you to keep me