"He has swindled me, and I--I saw him at a theater to-night, and afterward followed him out here." "For what? If he has swindled you, why didn't you have him arrested at the theater?" demanded Nick. "Well, I--I wanted to learn where he lives. He must have discovered that he was being followed, and then tried to do me up." Nick observed the speaker's faltering manner, and it increased his curiosity. "Why do you wish to know where he lives?" he demanded. Pylotte hesitated, and shrugged his shoulders. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," said he, after a moment. "Not believe you?" "I hardly think so." "Suppose you tell me, and see," suggested Nick, with a faint smile. "I have no objection to telling you, none at all," Pylotte now replied. "The man I spoke of, John David, swindled me yesterday with two artificial diamonds." "Ah! is that so?" cried Nick, with a significant glance at Chick. "What is your name, my man?" "Jean Pylotte, sir." "Who are you, and where do you live?" "I am a Frenchman by birth, and arrived in New York only this week. My home is in Denver. I am a diamond cutter by trade, and came here to buy some gems for a Denver woman of wealth, who wishes to obtain a certain size and quality." "Then you are a judge of diamonds?" "One of the best," Pylotte modestly admitted, with a faint smile. "I am an expert judge of diamonds, and so it happened that I discovered the swindle of which I am a victim." "Then you bought a diamond of the man who said his name was John David, did you?" "I bought two, sir," nodded Pylotte. "They appeared like natural and very perfect stones when I first examined them, but after subjecting them to more careful tests, I found them to be the most extraordinary imitations I ever beheld." "Artificial diamonds, were they?" "Yes, artificial. But only the best of experts, and after the most rigid tests, could discover the fraud. I never saw such imitations. The stones are really almost as good as natural ones." "Have you them with you?" "Yes." "You feel quite confident that they were manufactured, do you?" "Oh, I am positive of it," cried Pylotte, with emphasis. "That is why I was secretly following the swindler." "You wanted to discover his house, and learn how he made such perfect imitations, eh? Was that your motive, instead of having him arrested at the theater?" "Well, yes, it was," admitted Pylotte, with feigned reluctance. "Do you know any process for manufacturing diamonds?" Nick next demanded. "I am pretty well informed on the subject." "Quite an art, isn't it?" "Yes, it is." "And one that could be made very profitable, perhaps?" "I judge so." "Put up your revolver," said Nick, abruptly. "What's that black object you dropped just now?" Pylotte glanced down at his feet, then laughed faintly. "That's odd," said he. "It's a piece of coal. I must have seized it from the road, thinking to defend myself with it." "What is there odd in that?" Pylotte laughed again.