“‘Know’ is perhaps a little strong.  There isn’t much in this world that we really know.  Suppose we say that I strongly suspect.”  He paused a moment, his eyes on the ceiling.  “You know you’ve accused me of romancing sometimes, Lester—­the other evening, for instance; yet that romance has come true.”

“I take it all back,” I said, meekly.

“There’s another thing these talks do,” continued Godfrey, going off rather at a tangent, “and that is to clarify my ideas.  You don’t know how it helps me to state my case to you and to try to answer your objections.  Your being a lawyer makes you unusually quick to see objections, and a lawyer is always harder to convince of a thing than the ordinary man.  You are accustomed to weighing evidence; and so I never allow myself to be convinced of a theory until I have convinced you.  Not always, even then,” he added, with a smile.

“Well, I’m glad I’m of some use,” I said, “if it is only as a sort of file for you to sharpen your wits on.  So please go ahead and romance some more.  Tell me first how you and Simmonds came to be following Armand.”

“Simply because I had found out he wasn’t Armand.  Felix Armand is in Paris at this moment.  You were too credulous, Lester.”

“Why, I never had any doubt of his being Armand,” I stammered.  “He knew about my cablegram—­he knew about the firm’s answer....”

“Of course he did, because your cable was never received by the Armands, but by a confederate in this fellow’s employ; and it was that confederate who answered it.  Our friend, the unknown, foresaw, of course, that a cable would be sent the Armands as soon as the mistake was discovered, and he took his precautions accordingly.”

“Then you still believe that the cabinet was sent to Vantine by design and not by accident?”

“Absolutely.  It was sent by the Armands in good faith, because they believed that it had been purchased by Vantine—­all of which had been arranged very carefully by the Great Unknown.”

“Tell me how you know all this, Godfrey,” I said.

“Why, it was easy enough.  When you told me yesterday of Armand, I knew, or thought I knew, that it was a plant of some kind.  But, in order to be sure, I cabled our man at Paris to investigate.  Our man went at once to Armand, pere, and he learned a number of very interesting things.  One was, that the son, Felix Armand, was in Paris; another was that no member of the firm knew anything about your cable or the answer to it; a third was, that, had the cable been received, it would not have been understood, because the Armands’ books show that this cabinet was bought by Philip Vantine for the sum of fifteen thousand francs.”

“Not this one!” I protested.

“Yes; this one.  And it was cheap at the price.  Of course, the Armands knew nothing about the Montespan story—­they were simply selling at a profit.”

“But I don’t understand!” I stammered.  “Vantine told me himself that he did not buy that cabinet.”