Grenville grimaced and glanced again at the city rolling by outside. "A needle in a haystack I would say."

"Not necessarily." I had pondered this all night, at least, as far as my inebriation would let me. "A master thief would try to get the necklace to the Continent, to be reset and sold. In that case the necklace is gone forever, and the maid obviously did not escape with it. At most, she was an accomplice. As highly as Lady Clifford speaks of her, we cannot rule out the possibility that Waters was coerced by a lover to steal the jewels. A petty thief, on the other hand, might try to dispose of the necklace quickly, close to home, which means London. If I were the thief, I'd find a pawnbroker not much worried about where the merchandise came from, one who knew he could reset and sell the thing with no one being the wiser."

"Your knowledge of the criminal mind is astonishing," Grenville said.

I gave him a half smile. "Sergeant Pomeroy likes to tell me about it over a pint now and again. And Sir Gideon Derwent has worked to reform criminals most of his life. He's told me many interesting tales."

"Very well, then, a petty thief who seized an opportunity might sell it to a shady London pawnbroker. But what if you were Mrs. Dale? A gently born lady, who likely has no knowledge of unsavory pawnbrokers?"

I shrugged. "If she is the evil viper Lady Clifford paints her, she either passed it to a confederate to dispose of it for her, or she is hiding it to pin the blame on the maid and upset Lady Clifford."

"A dangerous proposition. Would Mrs. Dale risk hanging to gloat over her rival?"

"I have no idea," I said. "The ways of lady rivals are unknown to me. But if the maid or other servants stole the necklace, we will find it at a pawnbroker's."