"You like these trinkets?" I asked.

"Yes," said she, in that tone in which "yes" is stronger than a thousand
words of rapture; and the depths of her eyes caught fire from the stones,
and gleamed.

"But you know nothing about them," I pursued composedly.

"I suppose they are valuable," said she, making an effort after
_nonchalance_.

"They have some value," I conceded, smiling. "But I mean about their
history."

"They are bought, I suppose--bought and sold."

"I happen to know just a little about such things. In fact, I have a book
at home in which there is a picture of this necklace. It is known as the
Cardinal's Necklace. The stones were collected by Cardinal Armand de
Saint-Maclou, Archbishop of Caen, some thirty years ago. They were set by
Lebeau of Paris, on the order of the cardinal, and were left by him to his
nephew, our friend the duke. Since his marriage, the duchess has of course
worn them."

All this I said in a most matter-of-fact tone.

"Do you mean that they belong to her?" asked Marie, with a sudden lift of
her eyes.