“Yes,—­I know.”

“He was to have paid me half a million francs,—­not half its worth,—­in trust for the person who left it, who is not M. Arthur Ulster, but Mme. de St. Cyr.”

Madame de St. Cyr!  How under the sun——­No,—­it could not be possible.  The case stood as it stood before.  The rogue was in deeper water than I had thought; he had merely employed Mme. de St. Cyr.  I ran this over in my mind, while I said, “Yes.”

“Now, Sir,” I continued, “you will state the terms of this transaction.”

“With pleasure.  For my trouble I was myself to receive patronage and five thousand francs.  The Baron is to be here directly, on other and public business. Reine du ciel, Monsieur! how shall I meet him?”

“He is powerless in Paris; your fear is idle.”

“True.  There were no other terms.”

“Nor papers?”

“The lady thought it safest to be without them.  She took merely my receipt, which the Baron Stahl will bring to me from her before receiving this.”

“I will trouble you for it now.”

He bowed and shuffled away.  At a glance from me, the gendarme slipped to the rear of the building, where three others were stationed at the two exits in that direction, to caution them of the critical moment, and returned.  Ten minutes passed,—­the merchant did not appear.  If, after all, he had made off with it!  There had been the click of a bolt, the half-stifled rattle of arms, as if a door had been opened and rapidly closed again, but nothing more.

“I will see what detains my friend,” said Mademoiselle, the little woman.

We suffered her to withdraw.  In a moment more a quick expostulation was to be heard.

“They are there, the gendarmes, my little one!  I should have run, but they caught me, the villains! and replaced me in the house. Oh, sacre!”—­and rolling this word between his teeth, he came down and laid a little box on the counter.  I opened it.  There was within a large, glittering, curiously-cut piece of glass.  I threw it aside.

“The diamond!” I exclaimed.

“Monsieur had it,” he replied, stooping to pick up the glass with every appearance of surprise and care.

“Do you mean to say you endeavored to escape with that bawble?  Produce the diamond instantly, or you shall hang as high as Haman!” I roared.

Whether he knew the individual in question or not, the threat was efficient; he trembled and hesitated, and finally drew the identical shagreen case from his bosom.

“I but jested,” he said.  “Monsieur will witness that I relinquish it with reluctance.”

“I will witness that you receive stolen goods!” I cried, in wrath.

He placed it in my hands.

“Oh!” he groaned, from the bottom of his heart, hanging his head, and laying both hands on the counter before him,—­“it pains, it grieves me to part with it!”