"I believe she has gone to Grasslands, their seat in Worcestershire." "Poor lady! The middle of the season, too. Read that, Wigan," and he passed me the paper on which he had been scribbling. I read it aloud: "If the person who took, or found, the diamond necklace lost on the evening of Monday, the 14th inst., at the Duchess of Exmoor's house, in Park Lane, will return the same to Lord Leconbridge, at 190 Hill Street, the said person will save himself or herself all further trouble." "Get Lord Leconbridge's consent to insert that in the papers," said Quarles. "If he presses you for a reason, you can say that an entirely innocent person is likely to be saved from grave suspicion." "If you think that Lady Leconbridge is----" "I do not fancy I mention her name there," said Quarles sharply. "We are after the truth; and, Wigan, when the diamonds are returned, tell Lord Leconbridge not to mention the fact to anyone--anyone, mind, until you have seen them. When you go to see them I want to go with you. You must arrange that as best you can." I had considerable difficulty in getting Lord Leconbridge to agree to the insertion of this notice, and his reluctance certainly gave support to part of the professor's theory. It looked as if he were bent on concealing some point of importance. However, he gave his consent, and the day following the appearance of the advertisement I heard from him that the necklace had been returned. I had told him that when I came to see the stones it would be necessary to bring a fellow officer with me, so there was no need to explain Quarles's presence when we went to Hill Street. The necklace had been packed in wadding in a small, flat, wooden box, had come through the post, unregistered, and had been posted in London. The writing on the brown paper covering was evidently disguised, and might be either a man's or a woman's. Quarles examined it with a lens, but made no comment. "You did not expect to regain possession of the necklace so easily, Lord Leconbridge," he said, looking at the stones. "No." "A curious robbery, and, since the jewels have been returned, a curious reason for it exists, no doubt. I suppose you cannot give us any helpful suggestion in that direction?" "No." "Of course, we have promised not to worry the person responsible any further, but for our own satisfaction----" And then, after a pause, he added: "I suppose it would be a satisfaction to you to get at the exact truth?" "I don't quite follow the drift of your question," said Leconbridge. "You have the diamonds; the matter might be allowed to drop if you have any reason to think that, by taking further steps, family affairs might be disclosed which would cause scandal." For a moment Leconbridge remained silent, his jaw very firmly set. "I wish to know the exact truth," he said slowly, "but under no circumstances must the person who has returned the diamonds suffer. Our word is pledged."