Juliet rose to go. She was feeling intensely excited, if not really hopeful. Even if there were a plot, it seemed as if this might be the best way of setting to work, and she saw herself beating Sanders as a detective. So far he had made only trifling discoveries: fingerprints on the safe which told nothing, since they were Pat's and Lyda Pavoya's; there were no clues which might solve the mystery of Pat's disappearance, or lead to finding the lost pearls. As for Jack, he was _Lyda's_ man now! He believed the story which explained the fingerprints. She, Juliet, might soon show these two men that alone she had accomplished more than either in solving the double mystery. CHAPTER XVIII THE BARGAIN Two days passed; and small as was Juliet's faith in Madame Veno, she did not stir from the house lest the woman should telephone in her absence. The strain of constant suspense was like a screw tightening her nerves to breaking point. Her irritation grew against Jack, who persisted in warning her that she would repent her suspicions of Lyda Pavoya. To his mind apparently the dancer's story accounted for everything. Lyda had volunteered a statement that she had touched the safe after Claremanagh opened it, and she had offered to give Sanders her own fingerprints in order that they might be identified with those taken on the door of the safe, the only ones found there with the exception of the Duke's. Even this fact--that there should be no other marks visible--didn't prejudice Jack against the Siren. According to him--and (_he_ said) to Sanders--the _real_ thief or thieves had used rubber gloves.