"Well, it has not been offered to me. I've handled no pearls for twelve months." "Would you know the Heredith necklace if it were offered to you?" "I would not, and I've already told ye it was not offered to me." Colwyn was nonplussed and disappointed, but the recollection of Nepcote's furtive glance and hasty concealment of the diamond merchant's card on the previous night prompted him to a further effort. "It is possible the necklace may have been broken up and the stones offered separately," he said. "The clasp contained a large and valuable blue diamond." "I tell ye I know nothing about it. I very rarely buy from private persons. It's not my way of doing business." "We have reason to suspect that the necklace was offered for sale by a young military officer, tall and good looking, with blue eyes and brown hair, slightly tinged with grey at the temples." "That description would apply to thousands of young officers. They're a harum-scarum lot, and dissipation soon turns a man's hair grey. I have had some of them here, trying to sell family jewels for money to throw away on painted women. There was one who called some days ago in a half-intoxicated condition. He clapped me on the back as impudent as you please, and calling me a thing--a dear old thing, which is one of their slang phrases--asked me what he could screw out of me for a good diamond. I sent him and his diamond off with a flea in the ear." Mr. Wendover's gummy lips curved in a grim smile at the recollection. "Can you describe him more particularly?" asked Colwyn, with sudden interest. "I paid no particular attention to him, and I wouldn't know him again if he were to walk in the door. It was almost dark when he came, and my eyes are not young. But he was not the man ye're after. It was days before the murder." "Did he give you his name?" "He did not, and I wouldn't tell ye if he did. What's it to do with the object of your visit? Ye're a persistent sort of young fellow, but I'm not going to let ye hold a general fishing inquiry into my business. There are two kinds of foolish folk in this world. Those who babble of their affairs to their womenfolk, and those who babble of them to strangers. I have no womenfolk, thank God! so I cannot talk to the futile creatures." "Then I shall not ask you to break the other half of your maxim on my account," said Colwyn, rising with a smile.