How he had walked beside me
and seemed on the point of speaking, later, in the Gare du Nord. How I
had avoided and lost sight of him; but how I had many times covertly
touched my pocket to be sure that, through all, the letter-case was
still safe there.
Maxine grew calmer, though not, I think, more hopeful as I talked; and
at last she folded up the diamonds neatly in the red case, which she
gave to me. "Put that into the same pocket," she said, "and then pass
your hand over your coat, as you did often before. Now, does it feel
exactly as if it were the green letter-case with which you started out?"
"Yes, I think it does," I answered, doubtfully. "I'm afraid I shouldn't
know the difference. This _may_ be a little thicker than the other,
but--I can't be sure. And, you see, I never once had a chance to
unbutton my coat and look at the thing I had in this inner pocket. It
would have attracted too much attention to risk that; and as a matter of
fact, I was especially warned not to do it. I could trust only to the
touch. But even granting that, by a skill almost clever enough for
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.
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