“Judgment was entered for the plaintiff, although every one’s sympathy, including that of judge and of jury, was entirely for the defendant, who had so nobly determined to vindicate her husband’s reputation. “But Mrs. Vanderdellen proved to the last that she was no ordinary and everyday woman. She had kept one final sensation up her sleeve. Two days after she had legally been made to give up the Black Diamonds, she offered to purchase them back for £500,000. Her bid was accepted, and during last autumn, on the occasion of the last Royal visit to London and the consequent grand society functions, no one was more admired, more _fêted_ and envied, than beautiful Mrs. Vanderdellen as she entered a drawing-room exquisitely gowned, and adorned with the _parure_ of which an Empress might have been proud.” The man in the corner had paused, and was idly tapping his fingers on the marble-topped table of the A.B.C. shop. “It was a curious story, wasn’t it?” said the funny creature, after a while. “More like a romance than a reality.” “It is absolutely bewildering,” I said. “What is your theory?” he asked. “What about?” I retorted. “Well, there are so many points, aren’t there, of which only one is quite clear, namely, that the _parure_ of Black Diamonds disappeared from Eton Chase, Chislehurst, on 5th July, 1902, and that the next time they were seen they were on the neck and head of Mrs. Vanderdellen, the widow of one of the richest men of modern times, whilst the story of how her husband came by them was, to all intents and purposes, _legally_ disbelieved.” “Then,” I argued, “the only logical conclusions to arrive at in all this is that the Black Diamonds, owned by His Majesty the King of ‘Bohemia,’ were not unique, and that Mr. Vanderdellen bought some duplicate ones.” “If you knew anything about diamonds,” he said irritably, “you would also know that your statement is an absurdity. There are no such things as ‘duplicate’ diamonds.” “Then what _is_ the only logical conclusion to arrive at?” I retorted, for he had given up playing with the photos and was twisting and twining that bit of string as if his brain was contained inside it and he feared it might escape. “Well, to me,” he said, “the only logical conclusion of the affair is that the Black Diamonds which Mrs. Vanderdellen wore were the only and original ones belonging to the Crown of ‘Bohemia.’” “Then you think that a man in Mr. Vanderdellen’s position would have been fool enough to buy gems worth £500,000 at the very moment when there was a hue and cry for them all over Europe?” “No, I don’t,” he replied quietly. “But then——” I began. “No?” he repeated once again, as his long fingers completed knot number one in that eternal piece of string. “The Black Diamonds which Mrs. Vanderdellen wore were bought by her husband in all good faith from the mysterious vendor in Vienna, in March, 1902.”