"My dear Wigan, I am afraid you are still laboring under the impression that she stole the pearls." "I am, and that she handed them to the men in the corridor, one of whom may have been her brother or may not." "She didn't steal them," said Quarles. "Why, how else could the men have got in?" I said. "You are not likely to see that rewarding smile on the contessa's face which you talked about." "I think I shall, but first I must face the music and explain my failure. We will go this afternoon. Perhaps she will give us tea, Wigan." I am afraid I murmured, "There's no fool like an old fool," but not loud enough for Quarles to hear. When we entered the contessa's sitting-room that afternoon the child was playing on the floor with a small china vase, taken haphazard from the mantelpiece, I imagine. Whether our entrance startled her, or whether she was in a destructive mood, I cannot say, but she dashed down the vase and broke it in pieces. "Oh, Nella! Naughty, naughty Nella!" exclaimed her mother. The child immediately went to Quarles. "I want to sit on your knee," she said. "If mother will give you such things to play with, Nella, why, of course, they get broken, don't they?" said Quarles. "I thought you had brought my pearls," said the contessa. "I have come to talk about them." "That will not help--talk." "It may." "Will it bring Angelique back? I am lost without Angelique." "She will soon be back." I smiled at his optimism. "We saw her to-day," Quarles went on; and he told the girl's story in detail, and in a manner which suggested that my mistake in having her arrested was almost criminal. The contessa seemed to expect me to apologize, but when I remained silent she became practical. "Still, I do not see my pearls, Monsieur Quarles." "Contessa, your maid says you were looking at the earrings on the day before the robbery. She saw the case on your dressing-table." "Yes, I remember." "Do you remember putting the case back in your drawer?" "Of course." "I mean, is there any circumstance which makes you particularly remember doing so?" "No." "Was Nella crawling on the floor?" "Why, yes. How did you guess that?" "Didn't you meet the maid coming out of your room on the next afternoon? She had gone to fetch a clean frock." "Ah! yes, Nella got her frock dirty," said the contessa. "Pretty frock," said the child. "Was she playing with anything--anything off the mantelpiece?" asked Quarles. "No." "Are you sure? You give her queer things to play with," and he pointed to the fragments on the floor. "It does not matter," said the contessa, a little angry at his criticism. "I shall pay for it." "Pretty frock," said the child again. "Is it, Nella? I should like to see it." The child slipped from his knee. "Where are you going?" asked the contessa. "To fetch my dirty, pretty frock." "Don't be silly, Nella." "I should like to see it," said Quarles.