this disclosure, they would have vanished at the sight of the
other's face. Just as the rich hues of a sunset pale slowly into an
almost imperceptible green, so did the purple of Sir Thomas's cheeks
become, in stages, first a dull red, then pink, and finally take on
a uniform pallor. His mouth hung open. His attitude of righteous
defiance had crumpled. Unsuspected creases appeared in his clothes.
He had the appearance of one who has been caught in the machinery.
Jimmy was a little puzzled. He had expected to check the enemy, to
bring him to reason, but not to demolish him in this way. There was
something in this which he did not understand. When Spike had handed
him the stones, and his trained eye, after a moment's searching
examination, had made him suspicious, and when, finally, a simple
test had proved his suspicions correct, he was comfortably aware
that, though found with the necklace on his person, he had
knowledge, which, communicated to Sir Thomas, would serve him well.
He knew that Lady Julia was not the sort of lady who would bear
calmly the announcement that her treasured rope of diamonds was a
fraud. He knew enough of her to know that she would demand another
necklace, and see that she got it; and that Sir Thomas was not one
of those generous and expansive natures which think nothing of an
expenditure of twenty thousand pounds.
This was the line of thought that had kept him cheerful during what
might otherwise have been a trying interview. He was aware from the
first that Sir Thomas would not believe in the purity of his
motives; but he was convinced that the knight would be satisfied to
secure his silence on the subject of the paste necklace at any
price. He had looked forward to baffled rage, furious denunciation,
and a dozen other expressions of emotion, but certainly not to
collapse of this kind.
The other had begun to make strange, gurgling noises.
"Mind you," said Jimmy, "it's a very good imitation. I'll say that
for it. I didn't suspect it till I had the thing in my hands.
Looking at it--even quite close--I was taken in for a moment."
Sir Thomas swallowed nervously.
"How did you know?" he muttered.
Again, Jimmy was surprised. He had expected indignant denials and
demands for proof, excited reiteration of the statement that the
stones had cost twenty thousand pounds.
"How did I know?" he repeated. "If you mean what first made me
suspect, I couldn't tell you. It might have been one of a score of
things. A jeweler can't say exactly how he gets on the track of fake
stones. He can feel them. He can almost smell them. I worked with a
jeweler once. That's how I got my knowledge of jewels. But, if you
mean, can I prove what I say about this necklace, that's easy.
There's no deception. It's simple. See here. These stones are
supposed to be diamonds. Well, the diamond is the hardest stone in
existence. Nothing will scratch it. Now, I've got a little ruby, out
of a college pin, which I know is genuine. By rights, then, that
ruby ought not to have scratched these stones. You follow that? But
it did. It scratched two of them, the only two I tried. If you like,
I can continue the experiment. But there's no need. I can tell you
right now what these stones are, I said they were paste, but that
wasn't quite accurate. They're a stuff called white jargoon. It's a
stuff that's very easily faked. You work it with the flame of a
blow-pipe. You don't want a full description, I suppose? Anyway,
what happens is that the blow-pipe sets it up like a tonic. Gives it
increased specific gravity and a healthy complexion and all sorts of
great things of that kind. Two minutes in the flame of a blow-pipe
is like a week at the seashore to a bit of white jargoon. Are you
satisfied? If it comes to that, I guess you can hardly be expected
to be. Convinced is a better word. Are you convinced, or do you
hanker after tests like polarized light and refracting liquids?"
Sir Thomas had staggered to a chair.
"So, that was how you knew!" he said.
"That was--" began Jimmy, when a sudden suspicion flashed across his
mind. He scrutinized Sir Thomas' pallid face keenly.
"Did you know?" he asked.
He wondered that the possibility had not occurred to him earlier.
This would account for much that had puzzled him in the other's
reception of the news. He had supposed, vaguely, without troubling
to go far into the probabilities of such a thing, that the necklace
which Spike had brought to him had been substituted for the genuine
diamonds by a thief. Such things happened frequently, he knew. But,
remembering what Molly had told him of the care which Sir Thomas
took of this particular necklace, and the frequency with which Lady
Julia wore it, he did not see how such a substitution could have
been effected. There had been no chance of anybody's obtaining
access to these stones for the necessary length of time.
"By George, I believe you did!" he cried. "You must have! So, that's
how it happened, is it? I don't wonder it was a shock when I said I
knew about the necklace."
"Mr. Pitt!"
"Well?"
"I have something to say to you."
"I'm listening."
Sir Thomas tried to rally. There was a touch of the old pomposity in
his manner when he spoke.
"Mr. Pitt, I find you in an unpleasant position--"
Jimmy interrupted.
"Don't you worry about my unpleasant position," he said. "Fix your
attention exclusively upon your own. Let us be frank with one
another. You're in the cart. What do you propose to do about it?"
Sir Thomas rallied again, with the desperation of one fighting a
lost cause.
"I do not understand you--" he began.
"No?" said Jimmy. "I'll try and make my meaning clear. Correct me
from time to time, if I am wrong. The way I size the thing up is as
follows: When you married Lady Julia, I gather that it was, so to
speak, up to you to some extent. People knew you were a millionaire,
and they expected something special in the way of gifts from the
bridegroom to the bride. Now, you, being of a prudent and economical
nature, began to wonder if there wasn't some way of getting a
reputation for lavishness without actually unbelting to any great
extent. Am I right?"
Sir Thomas did not answer.
"I am," said Jimmy. "Well, it occurred to you, naturally enough,
that a properly-selected gift of jewelry might work the trick. It
only needed a little nerve. When you give a present of diamonds to a
lady, she is not likely to call for polarized light and refracting
liquids and the rest of the circus. In ninety-nine cases out of a
hundred, she will take the things on trust. Very well. You trotted
off to a jeweler, and put the thing to him confidentially. I guess
you suggested paste. But, being a wily person, he pointed out that
paste has a habit of not wearing well. It is pretty enough when it's
new, but quite a small amount of ordinary wear and tear destroys the
polish of the surface and the sharpness of the cutting. It gets
scratched easily. Having heard this, and reflecting that Lady Julia
was not likely to keep the necklace under a glass case, you rejected
paste as too risky. The genial jeweler then suggested white jargoon,
mentioning, as I have done, that, after an application or so of the
blow-pipe, it's own mother wouldn't know it. If he was a bit of an
antiquary, he probably added that, in the eighteenth century,
jargoon stones were supposed to be actually an inferior sort of
diamond. What could be more suitable? 'Make it jargoon, dear heart,'