“Yes, everybody seemed to know about that at the time.” “Everything stolen that night was covered by a special insurance. Now, the pearl necklace with the theft of which you were unjustly charged was also covered by a special insurance, and the policy was made out by the Company which insured Mrs. Mervyn-Robertson’s jewelry. Madame Marietta Stringborg, to whom the stolen pearl necklace found in your possession belonged, is a friend of Mrs. Robertson--they met first in Shanghai some years ago. These may have been coincidences, of course----” As Yootha did not answer, Cora said: “Do you mean to imply that there may have been----” “I imply nothing,” Stothert interrupted, “but----” He pressed twice an electric button on the table, and almost at once a handsome young woman with a Semitic caste of countenance entered. It was Camille Lenoir. “My partner,” Stothert said, by way of introduction. “Camille,” he looked up at her from where he sat, while she remained standing, “do you remember what Lord Froissart said to you the last time he came here--it was the morning of the day on which he took his life--concerning recent heavy insurances effected in respect to diamonds with the insurance company of which he was a director?” “Yes,” she replied, “he said he believed that some owners of valuable jewelry were insuring such jewelry and then planning bogus robberies, that is to say arranging for insured property to be ‘stolen’ by persons who eventually would return the property to the insurer after the insurance money had been paid.” “Collusion, in short,” Cora said. “Mr. Stothert says he implies nothing regarding Mrs. Robertson, yet--yes, I follow you both.” “No, come here, please.” As he spoke, Stothert unlocked and pulled open a drawer in the roll-top desk at which he sat. From it he took a small sealed packet, broke the seals, unfolded it, and revealed a splendid pearl necklace. “This is Madame Stringborg’s necklace,” he said. “The necklace found in your possession, Miss Hagerston, was made of imitation pearls.” CHAPTER XVI. GATHERING CLOUDS. Henley week is said to be fine once in eight years, so presumably it was an eighth year, for the weather was perfect. Captain Preston, an old blue, had made a point of attending the historic regatta ever since he had been at school; then had come a gap, due to the war, and then the regatta had been once more held.