"Latch-keys are very much alike," he said. "Give me three latch-keys, and
I'll open ninety doors out of a hundred. Give me six latch-keys of
various patterns, and I'll guarantee to open the other ten."
"I had not thought of that," Chris admitted. "Did Van Sneck happen by any
chance to tell you what he and Mr. Henson had been quarrelling about?"
"He was too excited to tell anything properly. He was jabbering something
about a ring all the time."
"What sort of a ring?"
"That I can't tell you, miss. I fancy it was a ring that Van Sneck
had made."
"Made! Is Van Sneck a working jeweller or anything of that kind?"
"He's one of the cleverest fellows with his fingers that you ever saw.
Give him a bit of old gold and a few stones and he'll make you a bracelet
that will pass for antique. Half the so-called antiques picked up on the
Continent have been faked by Van Sneck. There was that ring, for
instance, that Henson had, supposed to be the property of some swell he
called Prince Rupert. Why, Van Sneck copied it for him in a couple of
days, till you couldn't tell t'other from which."
Chris choked the cry that rose to her lips.
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