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"Arrest!" gasped Duperré. As he did so, an undersized, rather shabbily-dressed man of sixty or so put his head into the door inquisitively, and realizing that something unpleasant was occurring, quickly withdrew and disappeared. I saw that he exchanged with Duperré a glance of recognition combined with apprehension, and concluded that it was the man Heydenryck, the dealer in stolen gems.
But I find that Steffensen is away in America at the moment, so I've approached the Dutchman. Heydenryck is a sly old dog. Unlike Steffensen, he buys unset stones because they are difficult to identify." I bent and examined the glittering little pile of diamonds, rubies, emeralds and sapphires which had been stolen from the hotel in London. "Look here, Hargreave," said Duperré.
It was found that not a tittle of evidence could be brought against us, and, even though the magistrate expressed his strong suspicions, we were at last released. As we walked out into the sunlight of the boulevard, Duperré glanced at his watch, and exclaimed: "I wonder if we shall be in time to catch the train? I must telephone to Heydenryck at once."
"We shall get rid of them to old Heydenryck, who is arriving presently." "Who is he?" "A Dutch dealer who lives here in Paris. He's always open to buy good stuff, but he won't look at any stones that are set. Rayne's idea was to sell them, just as they were, to a dealer named Steffensen, who buys stuff here and smuggles it over to New York and San Francisco, where it is not likely to be traced.
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