I felt a dreary conviction that my treasured ornament was gone for ever, when, as a last resource, I went to a _bureau de police_, and gave a description of the lost ring to the officer there. The officer was polite, but gave me small hope of ever seeing my diamond again. I gave it up as gone for ever. I was sitting in my hotel dull and depressed, angry at my own carelessness, and inclined to give up any further holiday, and forget my annoyance by a speedy return to my professional duties in London, when my friend of the police-office entered. ‘I am happy,’ he said, bowing politely and smiling with, as I thought, anticipation of a handsome reward—‘I am happy to inform monsieur that we hope soon to place his ring in his hands. One answering to the description you gave was brought to our office by the finder, a countryman of your own. The ring being rather an uncommon one, I felt assured that it could be no other than the one you had lost. You described it, I think, as consisting of five diamonds set in the shape of a violet, with a smaller brilliant in the centre—a very curious and valuable jewel.’ ‘Yes, that’s it,’ I replied curtly, wondering why he could not give me back my property without so many words. ‘Then I may safely assume that this is the ring in question?’ He brought out my ring from his pocket and showed it to me. ‘It is,’ I said, stretching out my hand; but he did not restore the jewel, only stood there, holding it and smiling more than ever. I supposed that he wanted to see some sign of the reward he expected to receive before parting with the trinket. I took out my purse, and opening it, made some remark about showing my appreciation of his honesty; but he shook his head, smiling, if possible, more broadly than before. ‘Do you not wish to know, monsieur, how your ring was found?’ he asked, with a leer which I thought was disagreeable. ‘Well, how was it found?’ I said tartly.