I decided to approach the thing head on. I looked the proprietor in the eye. "You must have heard that Countess Clifford had a diamond necklace stolen. Her lady's maid was arrested for the deed. Can you be certain that the lady's maid who brought this in was not the thief in question?"

The man did not blink. "I read the newspaper account, of course. But these are not Lady Clifford's diamonds, sir. I saw her ladyship's necklace once, and I'd not forget a piece like that. The Clifford necklace was set in Paris and is much larger, the diamonds more numerous. And see here." He lifted the strand and pointed to one of the stones. "Cut is not quite exact, is it?"

I peered at it. The diamond, as beautiful as it was, had been cut slightly askew, the facets not straight.

"Lady Clifford's would be of higher quality, that is a fact," the proprietor said. "This bauble was intended for lesser gentry; possibly a country squire had it made for his wife. This would never be fobbed off on Earl Clifford. And I assure you, sir, were someone to bring me Lady Clifford's necklace, I would send word to a magistrate at once."

He said this with a virtuous air. I could not be certain whether he truly would send for a magistrate, but I saw no guilt in his eyes, no nervousness of a man who had stolen goods hidden behind his counter. If he were a very good criminal, of course, he would have mastered hiding his complicity, but short of forcing him at sword point to prove he did not have the necklace, there was not much I could do.

I thanked the man and left his shop, which was the last on my list. I took a hackney to Pall Mall, rather short of information.

I found Grenville already there. He bade the host bring us both a cup of rich, almost chocolaty, coffee while we waited for the footmen.

Grenville had found out little himself. The Bond Street proprietors had opened up to him, had readily talked of Lady Clifford's necklace, which was beautiful, they said, but they had no idea what had become of it.