F. CAUSER ZIHY & CO., Mexico and Paris.
And a faintly scented piece of violet note-paper lies beneath the double
lining, containing, in a woman's hand, this:
The diamond necklace is from Maximilian's crown, the
Emperor of Mexico. The centre stone has thirty-three
and seven-tenths carats, and the eighteen surrounding
it no less than one each. The diamond ring, the stone
thereof, was in Maximilian's ring at the time he was
shot.
But that is all; there is nothing to tell what hand snatched the jewels
from the lifeless fingers of the dead Emperor, or who purloined the
necklace from the royal household.
In a dusty compartment on my desk there lies a brown manila envelope,
and sometimes, when the day's work is over and I have glanced for the
last time across the court-yard of the Tombs at the clock tower on the
New York Life Building, I take it out and idly read the press story of
the famous diamond. And there rises dimly before me the pathetic scene
at Queretaro where a brave and good man met his death, and I wonder if
perchance there is any truth in the superstition that some stones carry
ill-luck with them. But it is a far cry from the Emperor of Mexico to a
New York bill-poster.
* * * * *
Dockbridge threw the manuscript on his desk and lit a cigarette.
"Is that all?" asked the lank deputy, stretching himself. "I thought it
was going to have some sort of a plot."
"It's a pretty good story," said the chief of staff. "Have you really
got any clippings?"
"I think it's rotten!" remarked Bob.
"Well, it's every word of it true, anyway," muttered Dockbridge.