The undoubted facts that survived a comparison were few and meagre, for in each case a conscientious journalist had touched up a few vague or doubtful details according to his own ideas of probability. All agreed that on Tuesday evening--it was now Thursday--Mrs Straithwaite had formed one of a party that had occupied a box at the new Metropolitan Opera House to witness the performance of _La Pucella_, and that she had been robbed of a set of pearls valued in round figures at five thousand pounds. There agreement ended. One version represented the theft as taking place at the theatre. Another asserted that at the last moment the lady had decided not to wear the necklace that evening and that its abstraction had been cleverly effected from the flat during her absence. Into a third account came an ambiguous reference to Markhams, the well-known jewellers, and a conjecture that their loss would certainly be covered by insurance. Mr Carlyle, who had been picking out the salient points of the narratives, threw down the last paper with an impatient shrug. "Why in heaven's name have we Markhams coming into it now?" he demanded. "What have they to lose by it, Max? What do you make of the thing?" "There is the second genuine string--the one Bellitzer saw. That belongs to someone." "By gad, that's true--only five days ago, too. But what does our lady stand to make by that being stolen?" Carrados was staring into obscurity between an occasional moment of attention to his cigarette or coffee. "By this time the lady probably stands to wish she was well out of it," he replied thoughtfully. "Once you have set this sort of stone rolling and it has got beyond you----" He shook his head. "It has become more intricate than you expected?" suggested Carlyle, in order to afford his friend an opportunity of withdrawing. Carrados pierced the intention and smiled affectionately. "My dear Louis," he said, "one-fifth of the mystery is already solved." "One-fifth? How do you arrive at that?" "Because it is one-twenty-five and we started at eleven-thirty." He nodded to their waiter, who was standing three tables away, and paid the bill. Then with perfect gravity he permitted Mr Carlyle to lead him by the arm into the street, where their car was waiting, Parkinson already there in attendance. "Sure I can be of no further use?" asked Carlyle. Carrados had previously indicated that after lunch he would go on alone, but, because he was largely sceptical of the outcome, the professional man felt guiltily that he was deserting. "Say the word?" Carrados smiled and shook his head. Then he leaned across. "I am going to the opera house now; then, possibly, to talk to Markham a little. If I have time I must find a man who knows the Straithwaites, and after that I may look up Inspector Beedel if he is at the Yard. That is as far as I can see yet, until I call at Luneburg Mansions. Come round on the third anyway."