Aunt Jane's Nieces Out West
"
"Can't you prove he is not Jack Andrews?"
"Not if the identity of the pearls is established," said the lawyer. "If
the pearls were stolen, and if Jones cannot explain how he obtained
possession of them, the evidence is _prima facia_ that he _is_ Jack
Andrews, or at least his accomplice. Moreover, his likeness to the
photograph is somewhat bewildering, you must admit."
This gloomy view made them all silent for a time, each thoughtfully
considering the matter. Then Maud asked:
"Do you know the cash value of Mr. Jones' stock in the Continental
Film Company?"
Colby shook his head, but Uncle John replied:
"Goldstein told me it is worth millions."
"Ah!" exclaimed the girl. "There, then, is our proof."
The lawyer reflected, with knitted brows.
"I confess I don't quite see your point," said he.
"How much were those stolen pearls worth?" asked the girl.
"I don't know."
"You know they were not worth millions. Jack Andrews was an adventurer,
by Le Drieux's showing; he was a fellow who lived by his wits and
generally earned his livelihood by gambling with the scions of wealthy
families. Even had he stolen the Countess' pearls and disposed of the
collection at enormous prices--which a thief is usually unable to do--he
would still have been utterly unable to purchase a controlling interest
in the Continental stock."
She spoke with quiet assurance, but her statement roused the group to
sudden excitement.
"Hooray!" cried Patsy. "There's your proof, Mr. Colby."
"The logic of genius," commented Uncle John.
"Why, it's proof positive!" said Beth.
"It is certainly a strong argument in favor of the boy's innocence,"
asserted Arthur Weldon.
"Maud's a wonder when she wakes up. She ought to have been a 'lady
detective,'" remarked Flo, regarding her sister admiringly.
Colby, at first startled, was now also regarding Maud Stanton with open
admiration; but there was an odd smile on his lips, a smile of indulgent
toleration.
"Le Drieux's statement connects Andrews with two other pearl robberies,"
he reminded her.
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There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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