“Artificial diamonds, were they?”

“Yes, artificial.  But only the best of experts, and after the most rigid tests, could discover the fraud.  I never saw such imitations.  The stones are really almost as good as natural ones.”

“Have you them with you?”

“Yes.”

“You feel quite confident that they were manufactured, do you?”

“Oh, I am positive of it,” cried Pylotte, with emphasis.  “That is why I was secretly following the swindler.”

“You wanted to discover his house, and learn how he made such perfect imitations, eh?  Was that your motive, instead of having him arrested at the theater?”

“Well, yes, it was,” admitted Pylotte, with feigned reluctance.

“Do you know any process for manufacturing diamonds?” Nick next demanded.

“I am pretty well informed on the subject.”

“Quite an art, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

“And one that could be made very profitable, perhaps?”

“I judge so.”

“Put up your revolver,” said Nick, abruptly.  “What’s that black object you dropped just now?”

Pylotte glanced down at his feet, then laughed faintly.

“That’s odd,” said he.  “It’s a piece of coal.  I must have seized it from the road, thinking to defend myself with it.”

“What is there odd in that?”

Pylotte laughed again.

“Diamonds may be made from coal,” said he.  “The fact that I should have got hold of a piece in the road here, while tracking that diamond swindler in search of his house, strikes me as being rather odd.”

“So it was,” said Nick, a bit dryly, thinking of Venner’s house in the near distance.

Then he added, decisively: 

“Put up your gun, Mr. Pylotte.  I want you to go with me.  I think you are the very man I want.”

“Go with you!” exclaimed Pylotte, drawing back.

“If you please,” said Nick, politely.  “I want, at least, to hear more of your story.”

“But who are you, sir?”

“My name is Nick Carter.”

“Not the celebrated detective?” cried Pylotte, with feigned amazement.

“Precisely.”

“That’s quite sufficient, Mr. Carter!” the Frenchman now cried, with much bowing and scraping.  “I’ll go with you when and where you wish.  If any man can run down these swindling ruffians, sir, you certainly are the man.”

“Thanks,” said Nick, dryly.  “I’ll take you home with me for the night.”

CHAPTER XVII.

The game uncovered.

The following morning.

The clock in Nick Carter’s library was striking nine.

Nick and Chick were seated at one side of the table, and Jean Pylotte occupied a chair at the opposite side.

Upon the dark cloth top of the table between them lay two large diamonds, declared by Pylotte to have been artificially made, the two with which he claimed to have been swindled.