"You wish me, in fact, to become a silent accomplice? To refrain from mentioning this little matter?" "You put things so well." "And do you propose to keep my wife's jewels, or may I have them?" "Oh, you may have those," said Jimmy. "Thank you." "I never touch paste." Sir Thomas failed to see the significance of this remark. Jimmy repeated it, with emphasis. "I never touch paste," he said, "and Lady Blunt's necklace is, I regret to say, made of that material." Sir Thomas grew purple. "Mind you," said Jimmy, "it's very good paste. I'll say that for it. I didn't see through it till I had it in my hands. Looking at the thing--even quite close--I was taken in for a moment." The baronet made strange, gurgling noises. "Paste!" he said, speaking with difficulty. "Paste! Paste! Damn your impertinence, sir! Are you aware that that necklace cost forty thousand pounds?" "Then whoever paid that sum for it wasted a great deal of money. Paste it is, and paste it always will be." "It can't be paste. How do you know?" "How do I know? I'm an expert. Ask a jeweler how he knows diamonds from paste. He can feel them. He can almost smell them." "Let me look. It's impossible." "Certainly. I don't know the extent of your knowledge of pearls. If it is even moderate, I think you will admit that I am right." Sir Thomas snatched the necklace from the table and darted with it to the electric light. He scrutinized it, breathing heavily. Jimmy's prophecy was fulfilled. The baronet burst into a vehement flood of oaths, and hurled the glittering mass across the room. The unemotional mask of the man seemed to have been torn off him. He shook with futile passion. Jimmy watched him in interested silence. Sir Thomas ran to the jewels, and would have crushed them beneath his feet, had not Jimmy sprang forward and jerked him away from them. "Be quiet," he said. "Confound you, sir, will you stop that noise?" Sir Thomas, unaccustomed to this style of address, checked the flood for a moment.