‘I don’t think I’ve left out anything. Pointz brought out the diamond and passed it around–that wretched American child stuck it on her ridiculous bag and when we came to look at the bag, the diamond was gone. It wasn’t on anyone–old Pointz himself even was searched–he suggested it himself–and I’ll swear it was nowhere in that room! And nobody left the room–’

‘No waiters, for instance?’ suggested Mr Parker Pyne.

Llewellyn shook his head.

‘They went out before the girl began messing about with the diamond, and afterwards Pointz locked the door so as to keep them out. No, it lies between one of us.’

‘It would certainly seem so,’ said Mr Parker Pyne thoughtfully.

‘That damned evening paper,’ said Evan Llewellyn bitterly. ‘I saw it come into their minds–that that was the only way–’

‘Just tell me again exactly what occurred.’

‘It was perfectly simple. I threw open the window, whistled to the man, threw down a copper and he tossed me up the paper. And there it is, you see–the only possible way the diamond could have left the room–thrown by me to an accomplice waiting in the street below.’

‘Not the only possible way,’ said Mr Parker Pyne.

‘What other way can you suggest?’

‘If you didn’t throw it out, there must have been some other way.’

‘Oh, I see. I hoped you meant something more definite than that. Well, I can only say that I didn’t throw it out. I can’t expect you to believe me–or anyone else.’

‘Oh, yes, I believe you,’ said Mr Parker Pyne.

‘You do? Why?’

‘Not a criminal type,’ said Mr Parker Pyne. ‘Not, that is, the particular criminal type that steals jewellery. There are crimes, of course, that you might commit–but we won’t enter into that subject. At any rate I do not see you as the purloiner of the Morning Star.’

‘Everyone else does though,’ said Llewellyn bitterly.

‘I see,’ said Mr Parker Pyne.

‘They looked at me in a queer sort of way at the time. Marroway picked up the paper and just glanced over at the window. He didn’t say anything. But Pointz cottoned on to it quick enough! I could see what they thought. There hasn’t been any open accusation, that’s the devil of it.’

Mr Parker Pyne nodded sympathetically.

‘It is worse than that,’ he said.

‘Yes. It’s just suspicion. I’ve had a fellow round asking questions–routine inquiries, he called it. One of the new dress-shirted lot of police, I suppose. Very tactful–nothing at all hinted. Just interested in the fact that I’d been hard up and was suddenly cutting a bit of a splash.’

‘And were you?’