“I didn’t think you were,” said Edelsheim, “because I knew about you. You are a detective. My old man--my father says you are the most wonderful detective of the age. I wanted to come and explain to you that I didn’t mean any harm.” Mr. Reeder pushed forward the plate of seed cake. “You, my dear young friend,” he said, “are no more, as it were, than a cog in a wheel of a very complicated machine. I can quite understand how you had embarrassed the employers of those two ferocious men. Now let us get to the really important point--just tell me what you said, why you addressed those young ladies in the restaurant.” Benny munched the seed cake with an agonized expression; it was obvious he did not like seed cake, but his hunger had compelled him to overcome his scruples. “I recognized her the moment I saw her. She is in my thoughts night and day, Mr. Reeder. There are some faces that hit you right in the eye, so to speak, that sort of make an impression upon you--she is not married, is she?” he asked anxiously. “Practically,” said Mr. Reeder. The young man’s face assumed an expression of acute pain. “She is engaged,” explained Mr. Reeder, in haste to remove any wrong impression he might have created. “I shall never see another face like that,” said Benny dismally. “I am romantic, Mr. Reeder, I don’t mind admitting it. I fell in love with her the moment I saw her photograph. She was wearing plus-fours. Cute! You have no idea what I felt like when I saw that picture. I thought here is the woman for me, and I only saw it for half a tick. He opened his pocket book on the counter, the gentleman who called at the shop, and he took out the photograph, because the clasp was in the same compartment, wrapped up in tissue paper, so I had a good look at the picture, and I said to myself----” “Yes, yes,” said Mr. Reeder with a certain testiness, “Please don’t bother about your emotions at the moment, Mr. Edelsheim. Tell me something about the clasp.” “The clasp, oh, yes. You want to know about that? It was a very pretty thing, half a buckle of diamonds and emeralds. I know a lot about stones. I was in Hatton Garden for eighteen months. My old man--my father believed in starting me at the bottom of the ladder----” “Did he want to sell the clasp?” Benny shook his head. “No, he wanted it valued. We do a lot of valuation work, and I am supposed to be pretty good at it. We have got a very big business, half a dozen assistants, and we have a branch at Bristol.” “You valued it?” said Mr. Reeder. “I valued it at £1,250, but I made a mistake. Even the best of us make mistakes. I remember, once----” “You have undervalued it by £100?” “That’s right. I told the young lady so when I met her. I thought she would tell her friend----” “Her father,” corrected Mr. Reeder. “Oh, was that her father?” Benny was more interested in the parentage of his ideal than in the sordid question of a diamond and emerald clasp.