“It really resembles the boy,” he admitted, with a frown of perplexity, “yet at the same time I realized the whole thing was absurd.  Neither Patsy nor I can believe that Jones is the man who robbed an Austrian countess.  It’s preposterous!  And let me say right now, Arthur, that I’m going to stand by this young fellow, with all my influence, in case those hounds try to make him trouble.”

Arthur did not reply at once.  He puffed his cigar silently while he revolved the startling accusation in his mind.

“Both you and Patsy are staunch friends,” he observed, after a while, “and I have noticed that your intuition as regards character is seldom at fault.  But I advise you, in this instance, not to be hasty, for—­”

“I know; you are going to refer to those pearls.”

“Naturally.  If I don’t, Le Drieux will, as you have yourself prophesied.  Pearls—­especially such pearls as these—­are rare and easy to recognize.  The world does not contain many black-pearls, for instance, such as that you are wearing.  An expert—­a man with a photograph that strongly resembles young Jones—­is tracing some stolen pearls of great value—­a collection, I think you said.  We find Jones, a man seemingly unknown here, giving away a number of wonderful pearls that are worthy a place in any collection.  Admit it is curious, Uncle John.  It may be all a coincidence, of course; but how do you account for it, sir?”

“Jones has an island in the South Seas, a locality where most of the world’s famous pearls have been found.”

“Sangoa?”

“Yes.”

“It is not on any map.  This man, Le Drieux, positively stated that there is no such island, did he not?”

Uncle John rubbed his chin, a gesture that showed he was disturbed.

“He was not positive.  He said he thought there was no such island.”

“Well, sir?”

“If Jones could lie about his island, he would be capable of the theft of those pearls,” admitted Mr. Merrick reluctantly.

“That is conclusive, sir.”

“But he isn’t capable of the theft.  Le Drieux states that Jack Andrews is a society swell, an all-around confidence man, and a gambler.  Jones is a diffident and retiring, but a very manly young fellow, who loves quiet and seems to have no bad habits.  You can’t connect the two in any possible way.”

Again Arthur took time to consider.

“I have no desire to suspect Jones unjustly,” he said.  “In fact, I have been inclined to like the fellow.  And yet—­his quaint stories and his foolish expenditures have made me suspicious from the first.  You have scarcely done justice to his character in your description, sir.  To us he appears diffident, retiring, and rather weak, in a way, while in his intercourse with Goldstein he shows a mailed fist.  He can be hard as nails, on occasion, as we know, and at times he displays a surprising knowledge of the world and its ways—­for one who has been brought up on an out-of-the-way island.  What do we know about him, anyway?  He tells a tale no one can disprove, for the South Seas are full of small islands, some of which are probably unrecorded on the charts.  All this might possibly be explained by remembering that a man like Jack Andrews is undoubtedly a clever actor.”