i had never been inside that exclusive of exclusive hotels, the rotterdam. i confess that my knees were a little infirm as i went through the swing doors, and passed before the nonchalant, indifferent eyes of the handsome footmen in blue liveries. "ahh, they're only overgrown bell-hops!" i told myself encouragingly, and fixed the marquis behind the desk with a haughty stare.

walking in a dream i presently found myself being shown into a corner room high up in the building. i was left there alone, and i had a chance to look around. i had never seen anything like it, except on the stage. it was decorated in what i think they call the empire style, with walls of white panelled wood, picked out with gold, and pretty, curiously shaped furniture. everywhere there were great bunches of pink roses, picked that morning, you could see, with petals still moist. it smelled like heaven might.

that was all i had time to take in when the door opened, and she entered. she was wearing a pink lacy sort of thing that went with the roses. she didn't mind me, of course. she was merely polite and casual. but just the same i could see that she was deeply troubled about something. trouble makes a woman's eyes big. makes a beautiful woman twice as beautiful.

she went to the point as straight as a bullet.

"i suppose you are wondering why i sent for you?"

i confessed that i was.

"it was the heading on your letter paper. what do you mean by 'confidential investigator'—a detective?"

"something a little better than an ordinary detective, i hope."

she switched to another track. "why did you write to me?"

this took me by surprise. "there was no reason—except what the letter said," i stammered.

several other questions followed, by which i saw she was trying to get a line on me. i offered her references. she accepted them inattentively.

"it doesn't matter so much what other people think of you," she said. "i have to make up my mind about you for myself. tell me more about yourself."

"i'm not much of a hand at the brass instruments," i said. "please ask me questions."

this seemed to please her. after some further inquiries she said simply: "i wrote to you because it seemed to me from your letter that you had a good heart. i need that perhaps more than detective skill. i live in a blaze of publicity. i am surrounded by flatterers. the pushing, thick-skinned sort of people force themselves close to me, and the kind that i like avoid me, i fear. i am not sure of whom i can trust. i am very sure that if i put my business in the hands of the regular people it would soon become a matter of common knowledge."

her simplicity and sadness affected me deeply. i could do nothing but protest my honesty and my devotion.

"i am satisfied," she said at last. "are you very busy at present?"

"tolerably," i said with a busy air. it would never have done to let her think otherwise.

"i would like you to take my case," she said with an enchanting note of appeal, "but it would have to be on the condition that you attended to it yourself, solely. i would have to ask you to agree not to delegate any part of it to even the most trusted of your employees."

this was easy, since i didn't have any.

"you must, please, further agree not to take any steps without consulting me in advance, and you must not mind—perhaps i might call the whole thing off at any moment. but of course i would pay you."

i quickly agreed to the conditions.

"i have been robbed of a pearl necklace," she said with an air of infinite sadness.

i did not need to be told that there was more in this than the ordinary actress'-stolen-jewels case. irma hamerton didn't need that kind of advertising. she was morbidly anxious that there should be no advertising in this.

"it was a single strand of sixty-seven black pearls ranging in size from a currant down to a pea. they were perfectly matched, and each stone had a curious, bluish cast, which is, i believe, quite rare. as jewels go nowadays, it was not an exceptionally valuable necklace, worth about twenty-six thousand dollars. it represented my entire savings. i have a passion for pearls. these were exceptionally perfect and beautiful. they were the result of years of search and selection. jewellers call them blue pearls. i will show you what they looked like."

she went into the adjoining room for a moment, returning with a string of dusky, gleaming pearls hanging from her hand. they were lovely things. my unaccustomed eyes could not distinguish the blue in them until she pointed it out. it was like the last gleam of light in the evening sky.

"the lost necklace was exactly like this," she said.

"had you two?" i asked in surprise.

she smiled a little. "these are artificial."

i suppose i looked like the fool i felt.

"a very natural mistake," she said. "some time ago my jeweler advised me not to wear the real pearls on the stage, so i had this made by roberts. the resemblance was so perfect that i could scarcely tell the difference myself. it was only by wearing them that i could be sure."

"by wearing them?" i repeated.

"the warmth of my body caused the real pearls to gleam with a deeper lustre."

"lucky pearls!" i thought.

"they almost seemed alive," she went on with a kind of passionate regret. "the artificial pearls show no change, of course. and they have to be renewed in a short time."

i asked for the circumstances of the robbery.

"it was at the theatre," she said. "it occurred on the night of february 14th."

"six weeks ago!" i exclaimed in dismay. "the trail is cold!"

"i know," she said deprecatingly. "i do not expect a miracle."

i asked her to go on.

"i had an impulse to wear the genuine pearls that night. i got them out of the safe deposit vault in the afternoon. when i saw the real and the artificial together i was afraid of making a mistake, so i made a little scratch on the clasp of the real strand. i wear them in the first act. i have to leave them off in the second act, when i appear in a nurse's uniform, also in the third when i am supposed to be ill. in the fourth act i wear them again.

"on the night in question i wore the real pearls in the first act. i am sure of that, because they were glowing wonderfully when i took them off—as if there was a tiny fire in each stone. i put them in the pocket of the nurse's uniform and carried them on the stage with me during the second act. in the third act i was obliged to leave them in my dressing-room, because in this act i am shown in bed. but i thought they would be safe in the pocket of the dress i took off."

"the instant i returned to my dressing-room, i got them out and put them on, suspecting nothing wrong. it was not until after the final curtain that upon taking them off, i was struck by their dullness. i looked for my little mark on the clasp. it was not there. i found i had two strings of artificial pearls."

i asked her the obvious questions. "did you have any special reason for wearing the genuine pearls that night?"

"none, except that i loved them. i loved to handle them. they were so alive! i was afraid they might lose their life if i never wore them."

somehow, i was not fully satisfied with this answer. but for the present i let it go.

"was any one with you when you got them out of the safety deposit box?" i asked.

"i was quite alone."

"did any one know you were wearing them that night?"

"no one."

"were there any strangers on the stage?"

"no. my manager at my request is very particular as to that. i have been so annoyed by well-meaning people. no one is admitted. in this production the working force behind is small. i can give you the name of every person who was on the stage that night."

"has any one connected with the company left since then?"

"no."

"who has the entrée to your dressing-room while you are on the stage?"

"only my maid. but she is not expected to remain there every moment. indeed, on the night in question i remember seeing her watching the scene from the first entrance."

"during which time your room was unlocked?"

"very likely. but the door to it was immediately behind her."

"have you any reason to suspect her?"

"none whatever. she's been with me four years. still, i do not except her from your investigation."

"does she know of your loss?"

"no one in the world knows of it but you and i."

"and the thief," i added.

she winced. i was unable to ascribe a reason for it.

"do you care to tell me why you waited six weeks before deciding to look for the thief?" i asked as gently as possible.

"my jeweller—who is also an old friend, has secured three more blue pearls," she answered quickly. "he has asked me for the necklace, so that he can add them to it. i cannot put him off much longer without confessing that i have lost it."

"but shouldn't we tell him that it has been stolen?" i asked surprised.

she energetically shook her head.

"but jewellers have an organisation for the recovery of stolen jewels," i persisted. "the only way we can prevent the thief from realising on the pearls is by having the loss published throughout the trade."

"i can't consent to that," she said with painfully compressed lips. "i want you to make your investigation first."

"do you mind telling me who is your jeweller?"

"mr. alfred mount."

"if you could only tell me why he must not be told," i insinuated.

she still shook her head. "a woman's reason," she murmured, avoiding my glance.

"you know, of course, how you increase my difficulties by withholding part of your confidence."

there was a little tremble in her lovely throat. "don't make me sorry i asked you to help me," she said.

i bowed.

"see what you can do in spite of it," she said wistfully.