The earl stared at it. "Who the devil gave you this?"

"I purchased it from a pawnbroker near Manchester Square," Grenville answered.

Clifford studied the diamonds a moment, then he snorted. "Well, he played you false, then. This is not my wife's necklace."

Grenville blinked, but for some reason, I felt no surprise.

"Are you certain?" Grenville asked.

"Of course I am certain. I gave her the damned thing, didn't I? My diamonds were of much finer quality and more numerous, the smaller stones surrounded by even smaller ones. I've never seen this necklace before."

I dipped into my pocket and removed the strand I'd persuaded the proprietor off Hanover Square to sell me last evening. "What about this one?"

Grenville shot me a look as Lord Clifford examined the stones. "Yes, this belongs to my wife. But it is not the necklace that was stolen. She's had this since before we married. Bit of trash." He tossed the necklace onto a satinwood table and did not ask me where I'd obtained it. "Someone has played you for a fool, Grenville. Probably my wife. She is eaten up with jealousy. Her maid never stole the necklace, and neither did Mrs. Dale, as much as she's putting that story about."

"Can you be certain about Mrs. Dale?" I asked.

"Mrs. Dale was with me at the time the necklace disappeared." Lord Clifford touched the side of his nose. "You gentlemen understand what I mean."

Grenville looked pained. "Quite."

"So," I said, "not at Egyptian House, as she told the Runner."

"Well, of course not, but she could hardly confess where she truly was, could she?" Lord Clifford jerked his thumb at the necklace in Grenville's hand. "Enjoy the bauble, gentlemen. You bought it for nothing. Teach you to go mucking about in a man's affairs. Should be ashamed of yourself, Grenville."