The shop was in a rather obscure street, not far from Regent Street. I inquired for Mr. James at the private door, and he came out to the cab. Miss Deveen said she had called to speak to him on particular business, and he took us upstairs to a handsomely furnished room. He was a well-dressed, portly, good-looking man, with a pleasant face and easy manners. Miss Deveen, bidding him sit down near her, explained the affair in a few words, and asked him to help her to elucidate it. He responded frankly at once, and said he would willingly give all the aid in his power. "Singular to say, I took these studs in myself," he observed. "I never do these things now, but my foreman had a holiday that day to attend a funeral, and I was in the shop. They were pledged on the 27th of January: since Mr. Bond left this morning I have referred to my books." The 27th of January. It was on the night of the 23rd that the studs disappeared. Then the thief had not lost much time! I said so. "Stay a minute, Johnny," cried Miss Deveen: "you young ones sum up things too quickly for me. Let me trace past events. The studs, as you say, were lost on the 23rd; the loss was discovered on the 24th, and Lettice Lane was discharged; on the 25th those of us staying at Whitney Hall began to talk of leaving; and on the 26th you two went home after seeing Miss Chalk off by rail to London." "And Mrs. Hughes also. They went up together." "Who is Mrs. Hughes?" asked Miss Deveen. "Don't you remember?--that young married lady who came to the dance with the Featherstons. She lives somewhere in London." Miss Deveen considered a little. "I don't remember any Mrs. Hughes, Johnny." "But, dear Miss Deveen, you must remember her," I persisted. "She was very young-looking, as little as Sophie Chalk; Harry Whitney, dancing with her, trod off the tail of her thin pink dress. I heard old Featherston telling you about Mrs. Hughes, saying it was a sad history. Her husband lost his money after they were married, and had been obliged to take a small situation." Recollection flashed upon Miss Deveen. "Yes, I remember now. A pale, lady-like little woman with a sad face. But let us go back to business. You all left on the 26th; I and Miss Cattledon on the 27th. Now, while the visitors were at the Hall, I don't think the upper-housemaid could have had time to send off the studs by rail. Still less could she have come up herself to pledge them." Miss Deveen's head was running on Mr. Bond's theory. "It was no housemaid that pledged the studs," spoke Mr. James. "I was about to say, Mr. James, that if you took them in yourself over the counter, they could not have been sent up to your assistant." "All the people about me are trustworthy, I can assure you, ma'am," he interrupted. "They would not lend themselves to such a thing. It was a lady who pledged those studs." "A lady?"