Grimaudan glanced around to see if anyone were looking. Some tramcars and pedestrians were passing. But, bah, they will not suspect anything. He opened his pocketknife and thrust it between the twelfth and thirteenth stones.

“And if it is not there?” he said to Victor.

“It must be there, unless someone saw me stoop down and hide it.”

Could it be possible that the black pearl had been cast into the mud and filth of the gutter to be picked up by the first comer? The black pearl⁠—a fortune!

“How far down?” he asked.

“About ten centimetres.”

He dug up the wet earth. The point of his knife struck something. He enlarged the hole with his finger. Then he abstracted the black pearl from its filthy hiding-place.