Trimmer. I had almost forgot him in the excitement of last evening. By the way, does the Mail know anything about the disappearance of Chain Lightning's Collar?"
"Not as yet," smiled Mr. Paddock, "although Madame On Dit claims to have been a guest at the dinner. By the way, what do you make of last night's melodramatic farce?"
"I don't know what to make of it," answered Minot truthfully. He was suddenly conscious of the necklace in his inside coat pocket.
"Then all I can say, my dear Watson," replied Mr. Paddock with burlesque seriousness, "is that you are unmistakably lacking in my powers of deduction. Give me a cigarette, and I'll tell you the name of the man who is gloating over those diamonds to-day."
"All right," smiled Minot. "Go ahead."
Mr. Paddock, reaching for a match tray, spoke in a low tone in Minot's ear.
"Martin Wall," he said. He leaned back. "You ask how I arrived at my conclusion. Simple enough. I went through the list of guests for
