of the newspapers.

"For certain, at any rate, the necklace was a superb one; nor do I
speak without knowledge, as you shall hear. Twenty-seven large
stones--between each a lesser stone--and all of the purest water!
The other two were scarcely less magnificent. It was a brother who
came over and certified the body; for her husband she had divorced in
America, and her father was an English clergyman, old and infirm,
seldom travelling beyond the parish where he lives in a chateau and
reigns as a king. It seems that these things happen in England.
At first he was only a younger son, and dwelt in the rectory as a
plain parish priest, and there he married and brought up his family;
but his elder brother dying, he became seigneur of the parish too,
and moved into a great house, yet with little money to support it
until his only daughter came back from studying at Milan and
conquered London. The old gentleman speaks very modestly about it.
Oh, yes, I have seen and talked with him. And what a garden!
The azaleas! the rhododendrons! But he is old, and his senses
somewhat blunted. He lives in the past--not his own, but his
family's rather. He spoke to me of his daughter without emotion, and
said that her voice was undoubtedly derived from three generations
back, when an ancestor--a baronet--had married with an opera-singer.

"But we were talking of the necklaces and of the ring which Lucien
had taken. . . . He told his secret to nobody, but kept them ever in
his trousers' pocket. Only, when he could escape away from his
comrades to some corner of the shore, he would draw the gems forth
and feast his eyes on them. I believe it weighed on him very little
that he had committed a crime or a sin. Longshore folk have great
ease of conscience respecting all property cast up to them by the