“He’s got the goods, sir,” he said triumphantly. “I watched him. The necklace was in a cigar box. He has got it in his pocket.” “Hold out your hands,” said Peter, and in a second Jamieson Steele was handcuffed. “May I come?” said the girl. “It is better you did not,” said Peter. “Perhaps your husband will be able to prove his innocence. Anyway, you can do nothing.” They left her, a disconsolate figure, standing in the hall, and carried their prisoner to Cannon Row. “Now we’ll search you, if you don’t mind?” asked Peter. “Not at all,” said the other coolly. “Where did you say he put it?” “In his pocket, sir,” said the spy. Peter searched the overcoat pockets. “There’s nothing here,” he said. “Nothing there?” gasped the man in astonishment. “But I saw him put it there. He took it out of his hip pocket and----” “Well, let’s try his hip pocket. Take off your coat, Steele.” The young man obeyed, and again Peter’s deft fingers went over him, but with no better result. The two detectives looked at one another in consternation. “A slight mistake on your part, my friend,” said Peter, “I’m sorry we’ve given you all this trouble.” “Look in the bottom of the cab,” the second detective pleaded, and Peter laughed. “I don’t see what he could do. He had the bracelets on his hands, and I never took my eyes off them once. You can search the cab if you like--it’s waiting at the door.” But the search of the cab produced no better result. And then an inspiration dawned upon Peter, and he laughed, softly and long. “I’m going to give up this business,” he said. “I really am, Steele. I’m too childishly trustful.” Their eyes met, and both eyes were creased with laughter. “All right,” said Peter. “Let him go.” “Let him go?” said the other detective in dismay. “Yes. We’ve no evidence against this gentleman, and we’re very unlikely to secure it.” For in that short space of time, Peter had realized exactly the kind he was up against; saw as clearly as daylight what had happened to the emeralds, and knew that any attempt to find them now would merely lead to another disappointment. “If you don’t mind, Steele, I think I’ll go back with you to your hotel. I hope you’re not bearing malice.” “Not at all,” replied Steele. “It’s your job to catch me, and my job to----” he paused. “Yes?” said Peter curiously. “My job to get caught, obviously,” said Steele with a laugh. They did not speak again until they were in the cab on the way back to the hotel. “I’m afraid my poor wife is very much upset.” “I’m not worrying about that,” said Peter drily. “Steele, I think you are a wise man; and, being wise, you will not be averse to receiving advice from one who knows this game from A to Z.” Steele did not reply. “My advice to you is, get out of the country just as soon as you can, and take your wife with you,” said Peter. “There is an old adage that the pitcher goes often to the well--I need not remind you of that.”