“An I mistake not, sir, that is a coronet.”

My lord’s eyes followed the pink-tipped finger and rested wrathfully upon the arms of Andover. It was like Tracy to flaunt them on his sword-hilt, he reflected.

“It certainly has that appearance,” he admitted cautiously.

“Also, those are not paste, but real diamonds, and that is a ruby.”

“I do not dispute it, madam,” he answered meekly.

“And I believe that that big stone is an emerald.”

“I am very much afraid that it is.”

“An expensive toy!” she said, and looked sharply at him.

“Ornate, I agree, but as true a piece of steel as ever I saw,” replied my lord blandly, balancing the rapier on one finger.