"What a curious coincidence!" he muttered. "These amethyst beads! This old-fashioned gold filigree setting! . . . It's strange to find the same materials and the same workmanship. . . ." He gave a start, and it was so marked that Coralie asked: "Why, what's the matter?" He was holding in his fingers a bead larger than most of the others, forming a link between the string of tens and the shorter prayer-chain. And this bead was broken half-way across, almost level with the gold setting which held it. "The coincidence," he said, "is so inconceivable that I hardly dare . . . And yet the face can be verified at once. But first, one question: who gave you this rosary?" "Nobody gave it to me. I've always had it." "But it must have belonged to somebody before?" "To my mother, I suppose." "Your mother?" "I expect so, in the same way as the different jewels which she left me." "Is your mother dead?" "Yes, she died when I was four years old. I have only the vaguest recollection of her. But what has all this to do with a rosary?" "It's because of this," he said. "Because of this amethyst bead broken in two." He undid his jacket and took his watch from his waistcoat-pocket. It had a number of trinkets fastened to it by a little leather and silver strap. One of these trinkets consisted of the half of an amethyst bead, also broken across, also held in a filigree setting. The original size of the two beads seemed to be identical. The two amethysts were of the same color and contained in the same filigree. Coralie and Belval looked at each other anxiously. She stammered: "It's only an accident, nothing else . . ." "I agree," he said. "But, supposing these two halves fit each other exactly . . ." "It's impossible," she said, herself frightened at the thought of the simple little act needed for the indisputable proof. The officer, however, decided upon that act. He brought his right hand, which held the rosary-bead, and his left, which held the trinket, together. The hands hesitated, felt about and stopped. The contact was made. The projections and indentations of the broken stones corresponded precisely. Each protruding part found a space to fit it. The two half amethysts were the two halves of the same amethyst. When joined, they formed one and the same bead. There was a long pause, laden with excitement and mystery. Then, speaking in a low voice: "I do not know either exactly where this trinket comes from," Captain Belval said. "Ever since I was a child, I used to see it among other things of trifling value which I kept in a cardboard box: watch-keys, old rings, old-fashioned seals. I picked out these trinkets from among them two or three years ago. Where does this one come from? I don't know. But what I do know . . ." He had separated the two pieces and, examining them carefully, concluded: