“He thereupon took the jewels he had selected and locked them up in his dressing-case, the beautiful silver fillings of which Mr. Schwarz just caught a short glimpse of.  Then, having been accommodated with paper and ink, the young jeweller made out the account and receipt, whilst M. Lambert, the secretary, counted out before him 105 crisp Bank of England notes of L100 each.  Then, with a final bow to his exceedingly urbane and eminently satisfactory customer, Mr. Schwarz took his leave.  In the hall he saw and spoke to Mr. Pettitt, and then he went out into the street.

“He had just left the hotel and was about to cross towards St. George’s Hall when a gentleman, in a magnificent fur coat, stepped quickly out of a cab which had been stationed near the kerb, and, touching him lightly upon the shoulder, said with an unmistakable air of authority, at the same time handing him a card: 

“’That is my name.  I must speak with you immediately.”

“Schwarz glanced at the card, and by the light of the arc lamps above his head read on it the name of ’Dimitri Slaviansky Burgreneff, de la IIIe Section de la Police Imperial de S.M. le Czar.’

“Quickly the owner of the unpronounceable name and the significant title pointed to the cab from which he had just alighted, and Schwarz, whose every suspicion with regard to his princely customer bristled up in one moment, clutched his bag and followed his imposing interlocutor; as soon as they were both comfortably seated in the cab the latter began, with courteous apology in broken but fluent English: 

“’I must ask your pardon, sir, for thus trespassing upon your valuable time, and I certainly should not have done so but for the certainty that our interests in a certain matter which I have in hand are practically identical, in so far that we both should wish to outwit a clever rogue.’

“Instinctively, and his mind full of terrible apprehension, Mr. Schwarz’s hand wandered to his pocket-book, filled to overflowing with the bank-notes which he had so lately received from the Prince.

“‘Ah, I see,’ interposed the courteous Russian with a smile, ’he has played the confidence trick on you, with the usual addition of so many so-called bank-notes.’

“‘So-called,’ gasped the unfortunate young man.

“‘I don’t think I often err in my estimate of my own countrymen,’ continued M. Burgreneff; ’I have vast experience, you must remember.  Therefore, I doubt if I am doing M.—­er—­what does he call himself?—­Prince something—­an injustice if I assert, even without handling those crisp bits of paper you have in your pocket-book, that no bank would exchange them for gold.’

“Remembering his uncle’s suspicions and his own, Mr. Schwarz cursed himself for his blindness and folly in accepting notes so easily without for a moment imagining that they might be false.  Now, with every one of those suspicions fully on the alert, he felt the bits of paper with nervous, anxious fingers, while the imperturbable Russian calmly struck a match.