left, his attention was drawn off by one of the assistants coming to him to ask a question, and during that time he had little doubt she availed herself of the opportunity to abstract the pendant from the jewel tray upon which he had displayed the things for her inspection.
On her deciding not to purchase then, he placed the tray temporarily in the glass case on the counter, locked the case, putting the key in his pocket, and then conducted Miss Artois to her brougham. He was certainly not absent more than five minutes. By that time there were very few people in the shop, and he proceeded immediately to the case, took out the tray and began to sort the jewels preparatory to restoring them to their respective positions amongst the stock. It was then he missed the pendant which Miss Artois had examined with eager interest, and had asked him many questions about the quality of the stones, their intrinsic value, and their setting. The pendant had originally been made to the order of a lady of title from specially selected stones; but she died before the order was completed, and her executors declined to take the pendant, and, therefore, in order to dispose of it quickly, the firm had offered it for sale at the low price of one thousand pounds.
As soon as he discovered the loss Mr. Coleman ran out of the shop and down the street, and passing a policeman on the way, he demanded his services. As it was the busiest part of the day there was a great deal of traffic, and Miss Artois' brougham had been unable to proceed very far. So convinced was he in his own mind that she was guilty, that though he was fully alive to the risks he ran if he made a mistake, he did not hesitate to give her into custody, and he was quite prepared to stand or fall by his act.
Although I subjected Mr. Coleman to a very close questioning, I could not shake his evidence in any way. I pointed out to him that there was one serious fact in connection with the case, and that was, he had failed to find the pendant either in the brougham or on Miss Artois' person; and that, however morally certain he might be that the young lady was guilty, no magistrate would convict her on such evidence.
"I am aware of that," answered Mr. Coleman, "but I have employed Detective Spieglemann, of Scotland Yard, to make some inquiries about the lady, and he informs me that on various occasions when she has visited the shops of well-known tradesmen, goods have afterwards been missed. The victims have almost invariably been jewellers, and the property purloined has generally been of great value."
"If that is correct there is primâ facie evidence," I answered; "but still, suspicion is not proof, and unless you have something better to offer, I have no hesitation in saying you will fail to secure a conviction."
Mr. Coleman appeared, for the first time, to be a little disconcerted, and I fancied that I detected signs in his face that he felt he had been somewhat hasty. Nevertheless, he reasserted his belief that the young lady was guilty, though he was utterly unable to suggest what had become of the stolen pendant. Female searchers had subjected Miss Artois to the most rigorous examination, and every nook and cranny of the brougham had been searched.
"May I ask, Mr. Coleman, if Spieglemann was present when the search was made?" I inquired pointedly.
"Oh, yes," exclaimed Coleman. "He happened to be in the Yard at the time, and conducted the search."
"Indeed. And did he think of searching the coachman who drove the brougham?"
As I asked this question, a pallor of alarm spread itself over Coleman's face, and he and Mr. Whitney looked at each other, as each saw, for the first time, that a grave oversight had been committed.
Detective Spieglemann was a German, who had long been attached to the force of Scotland Yard. But though he bore the reputation of being almost preternaturally acute, I had never been able to regard him in any other light than as a very ordinary person, whose German stolidity prevented him from getting out of well-worn grooves.
Of course this expression of opinion will be denounced as mere professional jealousy, but I shall be able to justify my view by hard and indisputable facts.
I have always maintained that the unravelling of anything like a mystery is capable of being elevated to the position of a fine art. Spieglemann, on the other hand, asserted that the whole process was merely a mechanical one, and that only a mechanical mind could succeed. On these points we totally differed, and as I had frequently had the good fortune to be successful where my rival had failed, I was entitled to claim that my process was the correct one. Mr. Coleman's answer was another item of evidence in my favour. He confessed with unmistakable concern that the coachman had not been searched, and that nobody had
