"Not unless you don't care to meet me," answered the policeman.

   "Mercy!" said Mrs. Shinevonboodle, "must I cross the social chasm to get those presents back?"

   "What kind of diamonds are missing?" inquired the policeman. "Are they sparklers or shines?"

   "What is the difference?" asked Mrs. Shinevonboodle, haughtily.

   "The difference is about $95 a carat," whispered the policeman.

   "The best that money can buy is none too good for me," said Mrs. Shinevonboodle, with proud scorn.

   "Yes, I noticed that by your hair and complexion," replied the policeman, politely.

   "Will you find the missing diamonds, or must I shriek again?" inquired Mrs. Shinevonboodle.

   "Is your photographer present?" demanded the policeman.

   "Do you suspect him?" gasped Mrs. Shinevonboodle, with a shudder.

   "The photographer generally takes things," answered the policeman. "Otherwise, how could the pictures get in the newspapers?"

   "Heaven forgive me for this oversight, but my photographer neglected to take the jewels before I lost them," said Mrs. Shinevonboodle, with bitter tears in her lamps.

   The policeman turned away to conceal his emotion and to take a pull at his two-for cigar.

   "What, oh! what is to be done?" wailed the helpless woman.

   "Nothing," responded the policeman, after a miserable pause. "Without pictures of the jewels to put in the newspapers the sensation will be weak and will wobble at the knees."

   Mrs. Shinevonboodle leaned against the fence and groaned inwardly.

   "It is too bad," muttered the policeman, as he bit into the two-for cigar and walked silently away.

   Mrs. Shinevonboodle sat down in her most expensive flower bed and wept bitterly.

   Just then the policeman came running back.

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