It was close on eight o'clock when the car rushed up the drive. Pierre came out at once. “M. and Mme. Clark were out. They had left after six o'clock, he thought.” He himself looked slightly dishevelled. Marie came running down from the floor above. “Ah, I thought it _was_ your voice, Monsieur Pointer! What a pity madame is out. But pray come in and rest yourselves, gentlemen.” They followed her upstairs into the drawing-room. “Major Vaughan in?” asked Pointer. For answer she went to the little house 'phone on the wall. There was no reply to her ringing. “He is out, and his man, too, monsieur.” “Do you know when madame will return? We must see mademoiselle as soon as possible. It is most important. She has not gone back to Cannes. We made sure that she would be spending the night here. Are you certain that she did not come back later and go out with Madame or the Clarks?” “Ah-h, that was, of course, quite possible. As a matter of fact there had been a dreadful upset here. Madame Clark had lost the wonderful emerald pendant she values so highly.” She had discovered her loss a little before six, and after that Marie hardly knew what had happened. Pierre had been sent post haste in a taxi way out to the _Palais des Marguerites_, where Madame Clark had been last night, in case . . . It was absurd to send him, but Madame Clark and her husband, usually so gay, were quite beside themselves; even the _chef de cuisine_ and the kitchen man had been made to help in the hunt,—been sent all the distance to some lunch place at Monte Carlo. Madame Clark had got Madame Erskine to send her, Marie, in a taxi to Antibes, where the Clarks had been during the late afternoon. As for Madame Clark's own maid, it was her afternoon off. Marie did not know whether the pendant had been found or not during their absence. She herself had only just got back when M. Pointer telephoned, and as for Pierre, he also was but just returned—the others were still away. But as the car was out, the Clarks were out, and madame as well as the major were out, Marie thought that the emerald must have found itself, and the household be taking its evening amusements as usual. But what a day! Oh, la, la! Pointer walked swiftly through the rooms of the flat, followed by Carter, silent and anxious. Watts, at a whisper, was looking over the rest of the house, beginning—thanks to his pass-key, with the major's rooms. Pointer stopped in a small dining-room Mrs. Erskine used for herself, or a very small dinner party of intimate friends. “When was the last meal served here?” “Not for over a week, monsieur.” Pointer asked Marie to be kind enough to 'phone to a Mr. Deane at the Moderne to join him as soon as convenient at the villa. “He is a sort of guardian of mademoiselle. If he is not in, ask them in the hotel to look for him, and kindly wait by the 'phone. He will be in shortly in any case.”