"Old Nick" was in reality not old. He might have been anywhere between thirty and forty, and was the typical British soldier turned valet. There was, however, a glint in his eye at times when fixed on a person detested, which made his nickname not inappropriate. "Togo thinks you may know when Simone is likely to return," Manners explained. "She generally does about this time, sir. I'm expecting her any minute." "Is it her movements or Beatty's that interest you?" Nickson swallowed discreetly. "May I speak out, sir?" "That's what we want you to do." "Well, sir, I was with 'is Grice one wye or another all through the war, and there's nobody to me like 'im--never was nor never will be. So there it _is_! And when 'e just vanished as you might say without so much as tippin' the wink to me, I was dead sure 'e 'adn't gone of 'is own accord. So I sets my wits to work the best I could, and I listens to talk and I reads all that blinkin' newspaper rot. Thinks I, looks as if them beastly pearls has somethin' to say in the business. So I asks meself: '_Oo's_ walked off with 'em, if any one, and is 'is Grice doin' a flit in the 'ope of trackin' the bloke down? If them pearls was ever _in_ this 'ouse, they must 'ave gone out again. _'Oo_ could' a' done the trick?' Well, I never trusted Mam'selle the wye 'er Grice did. She 'ad the run o' the plice. It was just on the cards she might o' laid 'er 'ands on the combination for openin' the safe. 'Well, I puts _that_ in my pipe an' smokes it. Strikes me she goes out a bit more reg'lar for 'er prominides with Beatty since that French Mounseer brought 'is packet o' pearls, than she used to do. So I 'as the curiosity to foller at a respectful distance one dye, an' sees m' lidy step into a French restorong. Not long after, comes along Mounseer of the pearls. I was sent to meet 'im at the dock, but missed 'im there, 'cause o' some mistike about 'is initials w'ere you wites for the Customs men. But I seed 'im 'ere at th' 'ouse later when I comes 'ome to report to 'is Grice. I recognized 'im alright. The question to my mind was w'ether 'e'd chose that restorong 'cause 'twas French or cause o' Mam'selle." Jack's eyes flashed to Sanders, who smiled. "You and I have been rivals in this game, Nickson," he remarked. "What conclusion did you come to about Mademoiselle?" Nickson flushed. "Didn't know I was on your pitch, sir. But if yer asks me, in my opinion 'e comes for _'er_. Or else she comes for _'im_." "A cat may look at a king!" said Sanders. "They're compatriots. Why shouldn't they meet?"