spot, dine here in the station, and go straight to the concert. There,
perhaps, during an interval, we might get in a word with this lady who
sports two names. Come on, now."

He hurried his companion from the cloak-room to the dining-room, gave a
quick order on his own behalf to the waiter, left Fullaway to give his
own, and began to eat and drink with the vigour of a man who means to
waste no time.

"There's one thing jolly certain, my lad!" he said presently, leaning
confidentially across the table after he had munched in silence for a
while. "This Miss Lennard, or Mamselle, or Signora de Longarde, or
whatever her real label is, hasn't got those jewels--confound 'em! Folks
who steal things like that don't behave as she's doing."

"I never thought she had stolen the jewels," answered Fullaway. "What I
want to know is--has she seen them, and when, and where, and under what
circumstances? You've got her shoe-buckle all safe?"

"Waistcoat-pocket just now," replied Allerdyke laconically.

"That'll be an extra passport," observed Fullaway. "Not that it's needed,
because, as I said, I've done business for her. Oddly enough, that was in
the jewel line--I negotiated the sale of Pinkie Pell's famous pearl
necklace with Mademoiselle de Longarde. You've heard of that, of course?"

"Never a whisper!" answered Allerdyke. "Not in my line, those affairs.
Who was Pinkie Pell, anyhow!"

"Pinkie Pell was a well-known music-hall artiste, my dear sir, once a