Frobisher bowed and smiled in one of his quick grins. Lefroy shifted uneasily in his chair. Isa Benstein’s lips were parted, her arms played idly by the side of her chair, there was no sign of fear in her eyes. When she spoke again it was quite calmly and slowly. "We will begin with the conjurer," she said. "After all, he has succeeded in forcing the card that is destined to lead up to the brilliant trick that dazzles and astonishes everybody. We will assume, for the sake of argument, that you are the conjurer and I am the silly heedless spectator who is marked out as the involuntary accomplice." "The mind could not grasp you in that senile capacity," Frobisher murmured. "Then give your vivid imagination free run for once, Sir Clement. The card in this case represents something that you very much desired, call it the Blue Stone of Ghan. The sacred jewel is hidden in a certain place. Your great idea is to conjure that somewhere else, and being a master of your trade, you have to make use of a third party who shall make the transfer for you without knowing anything of the matter. Only a prince among conjurers could hope to bring off so brilliant a coup as that, but there is no great success without great audacity. But Count Lefroy is looking at his watch. I am afraid that he is not interested." "It matters nothing about Lefroy," Frobisher said. "I am deeply interested. Pray go on." "Of course, our conjurer knows where the stone is. It is in the custody of an old man who has a young wife. The old man with the young wife has countless gems for safe custody. From time to time he lends these gems to his wife to wear, though, with the characteristic caution of his tribe, he never says anything to the owners. Well, here is the conjurer’s card forced from him, so to speak. All he has to do now is to design an occasion when the transfer may be made. We will say it is to be at a brilliant party—a fancy-dress ball, where gems may play a leading part. The victim will be there. As the Blue Stone of Ghan is a ruby, he naturally suggests rubies, much as the common conjurer with his magic bottle induces his assistant on the stage to choose the kind of liquid he wants to dispense. Says he to himself, that old man will offer his young wife the Blue Stone as a kind of crown of glory, and she will take it, not knowing what it is. Once she arrives at the fancy-dress ball the rest is easy. Do I interest you so far?" "Wonderfully," Frobisher croaked. "Fancy finding the conjurer out like that. But though you have spoiled the trick, he must have the forced card, in this case represented by the—but why complete the phrase?"