Mr. Chundermeyer had made himself popular with many of the ladies in the hotel by similar diplomatic means, but I think that if he had been compelled to purchase at his own flattering valuations Messrs. Isaacs and Chundermeyer would have been ruined. "You need not wear it, my dear," said her husband tactlessly. "Don't be so ridiculous!" she retorted. "You know I have brought my Queen of Sheba costume for to-morrow night." That, of course, settled the matter, so that beyond making one pretty woman extremely nervous, my campaign against the dreaded Omar of Ispahân had opened--blankly. Later in the day I circulated my warning right and left, and everywhere sowed consternation without reaping any appreciable result. "One naturally expects thieves on these occasions," said a little Chicago millionairess, "and if I only wore my diamonds when no rogues were about, I might as well have none. There are crooks in America I'd back against your Persian thief any day." On the whole, I think, the best audience for my dramatic recitation was provided by Mr. Chundermeyer, whom I found in the American bar, just before the dinner hour. His yellow skin perceptibly blanched at my first mention of Omar Ali Khân, and one hand clutched at a bulging breast pocket of the dinner-jacket he wore. "Good heavens, Mr. Kernaby," he said, "you alarm me--you alarm me, sir!" "The reputation of Omar is not unknown to you?" "By no means unknown to me," he responded in the thick, unctuous voice which betrayed the Semitic strain in his pedigree. "It was this man who stole the pair of blue diamonds from the Rajah of Bagore." "So I am told." "But have you been told that it was my firm who bought those diamonds for the Rajah?" "No; that is news to me." "It was my firm, Mr. Kernaby, who negotiated the sale of the blue diamonds to the Rajah; therefore the particulars of their loss, under most extraordinary circumstances, are well known to me. You have made me very nervous. Who is your informant?" "A member of the native police with whom I am acquainted." Mr. Chundermeyer shook his head lugubriously. "I am conveying a parcel of rough stones to Amsterdam," he confessed, glancing warily about him over the rims of his spectacles, "and I feel very much disposed to ask for more reliable protection than is offered by your Egyptian friend." "Why not lodge the stones in a bank, or in the manager's safe?" He shook his head again, and proffered an enormous cigar. "I distrust all safes but my own," he replied. "I prefer to carry such valuables upon my person, foolish though the plan may seem to you. But do you observe that squarely built, military looking person standing at the bar, in conversation with M. Balabas, the manager?" "Yes; an officer, I should judge." "Precisely; a _police_ officer. That is Chief Inspector Carlisle of New Scotland Yard." "But he is a guest here."