Parker," was the reply. "I am an American citizen and this is
my daughter. Mr. Cullen appears to be a person of observation. It is true
we were at the opera. It is perfectly true we were within a few yards of
Lady Orstline when she called out that her necklace was stolen. There's
nothing remarkable about that, however, as we occupied adjacent stalls.
What I want to point out to you is, though, if you'll allow me, that the
necklace I had on the table before me at Stephano's when Mr. Cullen
suddenly popped round the screen--the necklace you are now looking at,
sir--is of imitation pearls, valued at about ten pounds. I bought it in
the Burlington Arcade; it belongs to my daughter, and I was simply
examining the clasp, which is scarcely safe."
There was a moment's breathless silence. To me Mr. Parker's statement
seemed too good to be true; yet he had spoken with the easy confidence of
a man who knows what he is about. Standing there, the personification of
respectability, a trifle indignant, a trifle contemptuous, his words could
not fail to carry with them a certain amount of conviction. The inspector
rang a bell by his side.
"What are your daughter's initials?" he asked quickly.
"E.P.--Eve Parker," Mr.
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