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“At least that was why I was interested in the letters. But it was not until a few days ago that we got a tip that gave us a real working clue, for the anonymous letters had been very vague as to names, dates, and places, though bold enough as to general charges, as if the writer were fearful of incriminating herself – or himself. Strange to say, this new clue came from the wife of one of the customs men. She happened to be in a Broadway manicure shop one day when she heard a woman talking with the manicurist about fall styles, and she was all attention when she heard the customer say, ‘You remember Mademoiselle Violette’s – that place that had the exquisite things straight from Paris, and so cheaply, too? Well, Violette says she’ll have to raise her prices so that they will be nearly as high as the regular stores. She says the tariff has gone up, or something, but it hasn’t, has it?”

“The manicurist laughed knowingly, and the next remark caught the woman’s attention. ‘No, indeed. But then, I guess she meant that she had to pay the duty now. You know they are getting much stricter. To tell the truth, I imagine most of Violette’s goods were – well – ‘

“‘Smuggled?’ supplied the customer in an undertone.

“The manicurist gave a slight shrug of the shoulders and a bright little yes of a laugh.

“That was all. But it was enough. I set a special customs officer to watch Mademoiselle, a clever fellow. He didn’t have time to find out much, but on the other hand I am sure he didn’t do anything to alarm Mademoiselle. That would have been a bad game. His case was progressing favourably and he had become acquainted with one of the girls who worked in the shop. We might have got some evidence, but suddenly this morning he walked up to my desk and handed me an early edition of an afternoon paper. Mademoiselle Violette had been discovered dead in her shop by the girls when they came to work this morning. Apparently she had been there all night, but the report was quite indefinite and I am on my way up there now to meet the coroner, who has agreed to wait for me.”

“You think there is some connection between her death and the letters?” put in Craig.

“Of course I can’t say, yet,” answered Herndon dubiously. “The papers seem to think it was a suicide. But then why should she commit suicide? My man found out that among the girls it was common gossip that she was to marry Jean Pierre, the Fifth Avenue jeweller, of the firm of Lang & Pierre down on the next block. Pierre is due in New York on La Montaigne to-night or to-morrow morning.

“Why, if my suspicions are correct, it is this Pierre who is the brains of the whole affair. And here’s another thing. You know we have a sort of secret service in Paris and other European cities which is constantly keeping an eye on purchases of goods by Americans abroad. Well, the chief of our men in Paris cables me that Pierre is known to have made extraordinarily heavy purchases of made-up jewellery this season. For one thing, we believe he has acquired from a syndicate a rather famous diamond necklace which it has taken years to assemble and match up, worth about three hundred thousand. You know the duty on made-up jewellery is sixty per cent., and even if he brought the stones in loose it would be ten per cent., which on a valuation of, say, two hundred thousand, means twenty thousand dollars duty alone. Then he has a splendid ‘dog collar’ of pearls, and, oh, a lot of other stuff. I know because we get our tips from all sorts of sources and they are usually pretty straight. Some come from dealers who are sore about not making sales themselves. So you see there is a good deal at stake in this case and it may be that in following it out we shall kill more than one bird. I wish you’d come along with me up to Mademoiselle Violette’s and give me an opinion.”