"And history, Mr. Francis, is recorded by the victor. I'd wager that the poor queen wasn't nearly as bad as we're led to believe. I've always felt she was treated badly in the matter of the diamond necklace."

"It was a most convoluted business," Cécile said. "And very likely the queen's enemies were all too willing to encourage anything that might harm her reputation."

"Wasn't there evidence that she was having an affair with a cardinal and had asked him to acquire the jewels for her?" Mr. Barber asked.

"Gossip, Mr. Barber, is hardly reliable evidence," I replied. "A jeweler made the necklace, which was absurdly expensive, and Marie Antoinette refused to buy it. One of her enemies convinced the cardinal, who was hoping to become the queen's lover, that she wanted it, and he gave this woman the money to buy it, believing she would give it to the queen."

"The woman — the Comtesse de la Motte — disappeared with both the necklace and the cardinal's money," Cécile continued. "And the queen was presented with a very large bill by the jewelers. Eventually the cardinal and the comtesse were brought to trial, but it was the queen's reputation that suffered. People were quick to believe she was behind the scheme, and it brought to light the idea that her morals were not what they ought to be."

"The cardinal, perhaps, should not have been brought to trial, but the queen insisted," I said. "He was charged with insulting her dignity."

"I should very much like to own the diamonds from that necklace," Cécile said, her eyes sparkling. "I wonder how difficult it would be to persuade the current owner to part with them."

"Don't even consider such a thing until our intrepid thief is caught," I said.

"I find the nature of these burglaries particularly intriguing," said Mr. Francis, dragging deeply on his cigar as he walked to the table on which stood a decanter of port. He slowly refilled his glass, offering no further explanation of his comment. "Your port, Lady Ashton, is worthy of its reputation."