And now I'm going to confide in you the secret of another, speaking to you as my friend, and a man of honour.
"Those jewels had been stolen only a few days ago from Monsieur du Laurier, and he was in despair at their loss, for they belonged to a dear friend of his--an inveterate gambler, but an adorable woman.

She dared not tell her husband of money that she'd lost, but begged Raoul to sell the diamonds for her in Amsterdam and have them replaced by paste.
On his way there the necklace was stolen by an expert thief, who must somehow have learned what was going on through the pawnbroker with whom the jewels had been in pledge--for a few thousand francs only.

You can imagine my astonishment at seeing the necklace returned in such a miraculous way.

I thought that Ivor Dundas must have got it back, meaning to give it to me as a surprise--and the letters afterwards.

And it was only to keep the letters out of the affair altogether at any price--evidences in black and white of my silly flirtation--and also to avoid any association of Raoul's name with the necklace, that I told the Commissary of Police the leather case had in it a present from my lover.
I spoke impulsively, in sheer desperation; and the instant the words were out I would have cut off my hand to take back the stupid falsehood.
But what good to deny what I had just said?
The men wouldn't have believed me.
"When the police had gone, I asked Mr.Dundas for my letters.