There are but two men and two spoons
concerned. When you learn who those two men are, you will know that
one of them did not take the money, and I give you my assurance that
the other did.'
'You speak in mystery, Mr. Dacre.'
'But certainly, for I am speaking to Monsieur Eugene Valmont.'
'I echo your words, sir. Admirably answered. You put me on my mettle,
and I flatter myself that I see your kindly drift. You wish me to
solve the mystery of this stolen money. Sir, you-do me honour, and I
drink to your health.'
'To yours, monsieur,' said Lionel Dacre, and thus we drank and parted.
On leaving Mr. Dacre I took a hansom to a cafe in Regent Street, which
is a passable imitation of similar places of refreshment in Paris.
There, calling for a cup of black coffee, I sat down to think. The
clue of the silver spoons! He had laughingly suggested that I should
take by the shoulders the first man I met, and ask him what the story
of the silver spoons was. This course naturally struck me as absurd,
and he doubtless intended it to seem absurd. Nevertheless, it
contained a hint. I must ask somebody, and that the right person, to
tell me the tale of the silver spoons.
Under the influence of the black coffee I reasoned it out in this way.
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