"When I last saw you, madam," he began, after he was seated, and Miss Deveen had told him he might speak before me, "I mentioned that I had abandoned my search in the country, and intended to prosecute my inquiries in London." "You did, Mr. Bond." "That the theft lay amongst Sir John Whitney's female servants, I have thought likely all along," continued Mr. Bond. "If the thief felt afraid to dispose of the emeralds after taking them--and I could find no trace of them in the country--the probability was that she would keep them secreted about her, and get rid of them as soon as she came to London, if she were one of the maids brought up by Lady Whitney. There were two I thought in particular might have done it; one was the lady's maid; the other, the upper-housemaid, who had been ill the night of their disappearance. All kinds of ruses are played off in the pursuit of plunder, as we have cause to learn every day; and it struck me the housemaid might have feigned illness, the better to cover her actions and throw suspicion off herself. I am bound to say I could not learn anything against either of these two young women; but their business took them about the rooms at Whitney Hall; and an open jewel-case is a great temptation." "It is," assented Miss Deveen. "That carelessness lay at my door, and therefore I determined never to prosecute in this case; never, in fact, to bring the offender to open shame of any sort in regard to it." "And that has helped to increase the difficulty," remarked Mr. Bond. "Could the women have been searched and their private places at Whitney Hall turned out, we might or might not have found the emeralds; but----" "I wouldn't have had it done for the Lord Chancellor, sir," interrupted Miss Deveen, hotly. "_One_ was searched, and that was quite enough for me, for I believe her to be innocent. If you can get at the right person quietly, for my own satisfaction, well and good. My instructions went so far, but no farther." Mr. Bond took off his spectacles for a minute, and put them on again. "I understood this perfectly when I took the business in hand," he said quietly. "Well, madam, to go on. Lady Whitney brought her servants to London, and I came up also. Last night I gleaned a little light on the matter." He paused, and put his hand into his pocket. I looked, and Miss Deveen looked. "Should you know the studs again?" he asked her. "You may as well ask me if I should know my own face in the glass, Mr. Bond. Of course I should." Mr. Bond opened a pill-box: three green studs lay in it on white cotton. He held it out to Miss Deveen. "Are these they?" "No, certainly not," replied Miss Deveen, speaking like one in disappointment. "_Those_ are not to be compared with mine, sir." Mr. Bond put the lid on the box, and returned it to his pocket. Out came another box, long and thin.