The diamond merchant, obviously much excited, began at once to make his examination. He inspected the stones minutely through a lens, weighed them on a delicate balance he had brought, and put them to other tests which greatly interested his companions. As he put each down he gave his judgment. One after another were identified. All were among those stolen from him. They were the sixteen smallest and least valuable stones of the collection.
The fact was learned by the three men with very different emotions. Mr. Duke’s gain was Mr. Williams’s loss, and resulting satisfaction and consternation showed on their respective faces, while French’s countenance wore an expression of the liveliest delight, not unmixed with mystification.
“Good heavens!” Mr. Williams cried, his voice trembling with agitation and excitement. “Then I’ve been swindled! Swindled out of three thousand pounds!” He glared at the Inspector as if he were at fault. “I suppose,” he continued, “that if this gentleman establishes his claim, the loss will fall on me? God knows, I can ill afford it.”
“We shall hope not, sir,” French said sympathetically. “We shall hope that with luck you’ll recover your money. But we must not waste any more time. I shall start by going to the bank to see if all the money has been withdrawn. I’d be obliged, Mr. Williams, if you would come also. I’ll keep you advised, Mr. Duke, how things go on, and of course you’ll get back your stones after the usual formalities have been carried out.”
Mr. Williams had recovered his composure, and, the gems having been locked in his safe, the three men left the office and descended to the street. There French said good day to Mr. Duke, who somewhat reluctantly took his leave, the other two continuing to the bank. After a few moments’ wait they were shown into the manager’s room.
“I am afraid, Mr. Scarlett, I have had a serious misfortune,” Mr. Williams began, almost before they were seated. “I have just learned that I have been swindled out of £3,000. This is Inspector French of Scotland Yard, and we both want your help in the matter.”
Mr. Scarlett, a well-groomed, middle-aged gentleman of fashionable appearance and suave manners, looked suitably concerned. He shook hands with French, and expressed his commiseration with his client’s loss in a few easy words, declaring also his desire to be of service.
“Do you remember,” Mr. Williams went on eagerly, “my coming to see you one morning about six weeks ago with a lady whom I introduced as Mrs. Root, of Pittsburg, U.S.A.? She held my cheque for £3,000, and I came to introduce her to you.”
The manager recalled the incident.
“That money was a loan, for which she deposited with me a number of diamonds. The diamonds were valued by Mr. Stronge of Hurst & Stronge’s, and I gave her less than their value. I thought I had taken all reasonable precautions, but now,” Mr. Williams made a faint gesture of despair, “now it seems that they were stolen.”
“Stolen?” Mr. Scarlett repeated in a shocked voice. “My dear sir! Allow me to say how extremely sorry I am to have to tell you that I fear your discovery has come too late. Your cheque had been paid practically in full.”
Mr. Williams gave a little groan, though he had evidently been expecting the bad news. He would have spoken, but French broke in with, “Is that so, sir? That is really what we came to ask. Now I want you please to give me as detailed an account of the whole business as you can.”
“I will do so, of course,” Mr. Scarlett returned, “but I fear my story will not help you much.” He raised his desk telephone. “Ask Mr. Plenteous to come here,” he directed, and when a young, fair-haired man had entered he resumed, “This is Mr. Plenteous who carried out the details of the transaction. As Mr. Williams has said, he and the lady called on me,” he turned over the leaves of a diary, “about midday on Thursday, 26th November. He introduced the lady as a Mrs. Chauncey S. Root, of Pittsburg, and stated he had called to certify that she was the person referred to in a cheque he had made out. She produced a cheque for £3,000, and Mr. Williams identified it as his. She thanked him and he withdrew. She then said that she wished to open a temporary account, and that she would like cash for £1,500, and to lodge the remainder. I sent for Mr. Plenteous, and asked him to arrange the matter, and he showed the lady out to his counter. Next day the balance was withdrawn except for a few shillings, which I believe we still hold. Is not that correct, Plenteous?”
“Yes, sir,” the fair-haired young man answered, “quite correct. I can turn you up the exact balance in a moment.”
“Presently, thank you, Mr. Plenteous,” French interposed. “In the meantime perhaps you would tell us what took place between you and the lady after you left this office.”
After a glance at his chief, the clerk answered:
“Mrs. Root handed me the cheque for £3,000, and said she wished to lodge half. I filled the customary forms, took her signature, and gave her a passbook, all in the usual way. Then she told me she would like the other £1,500 cashed in notes of small value. She said she was a stranger to London, but that already she had discovered the difficulty of changing Bank of England notes. Being short of ready money, she had proffered a twenty-pound note in a shop. It was refused, and on asking for change in a bank which happened to be next door, the cashier politely informed her he was not permitted to change notes for strangers. She had, indeed, to go back to her hotel before she could get it done.
