“His maid accomplice was the first one we caught. She’s in the foyer as we speak. That’s where the rest of our men are waiting for us.”
Given that bit of information, we decided to reconvene in the foyer. The knights who had been the first to infiltrate the premises were there standing watch over the pretty young maid who was apparently his partner-in-crime.
“Here’s your authentic Viola Eye necklace back,” said Corydalis, handing us the box with the accessory inside. He had already inspected the goods earlier, but we were better off double-checking its legitimacy just in case.
Mr. Fisalis took the offered box and examined the jewelry inside. I peeked over from beside him and saw for myself that the seal of authenticity was indeed where it ought to be.
“Good. It’s the real deal.”
“It sure is! Whew, that’s a relief... Whoa!”
“Hey, careful there!”
I was so relieved to know we’d recovered the genuine artifact that my legs gave out and I nearly collapsed on the spot. Mr. Fisalis caught me in his arms at the last second and held me up.
“For a fake, the workmanship was exquisite. How did you figure it out?” the earl demanded, chagrined.
Oh, I guess he really doesn’t know about the seal.
“I’m not about to spill my secrets to a criminal like you, but let’s just say we took some measures of our own,” my husband replied, grinning.
In reality, we’d just been lucky that the distinct markings on the Viola Eye and the Viola Sapphire weren’t public knowledge.
“We won’t be going public with this incident, but in exchange, consider yourself permanently removed from the political stage. Though we may have kept this matter a secret from the Argenteias, you’d better believe we’ve relayed every last detail to His Majesty. Look here—we’ve got a royal decree ordering that your rank and territory be confiscated, signed by the king and everything,” said Corydalis, showing the earl the warrant for his arrest, the warrant to search his home, and as he had just explained, a royal decree stripping him of his rank and territory.
The earl stared at the documents, stunned, before his shoulders sagged.
Having given up his futile struggle, he went on to confess the howdunit.
It was when his mounting debt had backed him into a corner that my necklace had just so happened to catch his eye. Since he’d heard that the Viola Eye—a gem of incomparable quality even among the Viola Sapphires—commanded a high enough price to fund an entire mansion (and a big one, at that!), he became determined to somehow get ahold of it and sell it in another country. If he tried to sell it in Flür, the theft would’ve been traced back to him right away, after all.
He lured in his maid with promises to marry her if the plan went smoothly, and thus she became his accomplice.
He’d crafted the fake necklace by bringing a sapphire of his own to our jeweler and asking him to have it made into “exactly the same design as the Viola Eye.” Given that countless ladies and madams had been asking for “a design matching Duchess Fisalis” as part of the recent trend, the jeweler had granted his request without a second thought. As an aside, he had made a secret sketch of what the Viola Sapphire seal looked like after a noblewoman who owned a real one had shown him her necklace, then carved it himself using that picture as a reference. Very clever of him.
With the fake stored away inside, he’d handed the box from the jeweler to his maid and ordered her to swap it for the real thing. She’d pulled the switch off exactly the way we’d suspected. That part of the plan had apparently been her own idea.
If there hadn’t been a storm that day—if there hadn’t been a traffic jam at the entrance—her plan was apparently to sneak into our room and make the switch there. If only things had panned out that way, none of this ever would have happened. No way our servants would’ve given her the chance to pull it off!
It would be fair to say that the weather was the only reason the switcheroo went off without a hitch. There was nothing to chalk it up to but our own awful luck!
The earl had made the clasp easy to undo as a way to shift suspicion onto the other partygoers. The moment I attempted any difficult dance steps or sweeping turns, the necklace was sure to shake from the impact and fall to the floor. Naturally, either I or the person closest to me would pick it up. The more people who touched the accessory, the more suspects there would be. Meanwhile, he would only ask me to dance a slow-tempo song, or otherwise take care not to jostle the necklace mid-waltz.
“Why didn’t you just get a job instead of wasting time coming up with evil schemes?”
“Now here’s an idea: this is pretty well-made for a fake, so why don’t you give it to this poor girl here? You told her you’d marry her if she did as you asked, didn’t you? Isn’t a man supposed to be as good as his word? God, you’re the worst.”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s cheap—all a girl wants is something from the heart!”
“What a tool.”
“A guy who can’t swallow his pride is such a turn-off.”
On and on the Bombshell Trio went. The girls dragged the earl and his accomplice (if you could really call her that) away, taking shots at him all the while.
We had the necklace back, and the culprit had been arrested. That closed the book on this case!