"You may be easy on that score," Chris laughed. "I am not a lady detective. All the same, I have defeated Mr. Reginald Henson."

"You think he is at the bottom of the mystery of the other Rembrandt."

"I am certain of it; unless you like to believe in the truth of his charming scheme to give you a lesson, as he called it. As a matter of fact, Mr. Henson discovered the existence of the other print; he discovered that Dr. Bell possessed it—the rest I leave to your own astuteness. You saw his face just now?"

"Oh, yes. It was a fine study in emotions. If you could find the other picture—"

"I hope to restore it to you before the day has passed."

Littimer applauded, gently. He was charmed, he said, with the whole comedy. The first two acts had been a brilliant success. If the third was only as good he would regard Miss Lee as his benefactor for ever. It was not often that anybody intellectually amused him; in fact, he must add Miss Lee to his collection.

"Then you must play a part yourself," Chris said, gaily. "I am going into Moreton Wells, and Dr. Bell accompanies me. Mr. Henson is not to know that we have gone, and he is not to leave the house for a good hour or so after our departure. What I want is a fair start and the privilege of bringing a guest home to dinner."

"Vague, mysterious, and alluring," Littimer said. "Bring the guest by all means. I will pledge my diplomacy that you have a long start. Really, I don't know when I have enjoyed myself so much. You shall have the big waggonette for your journey."

"And join it beyond the lodge-gates," Chris said, thoughtfully. "Dr. Bell, you shall stroll through the park casually; I will follow as casually later on."

A little later Henson emerged from his room dressed evidently for a journey. He looked flabby and worried; there was an expression very like fear in his eyes. The corridor was deserted as he passed the place where the Rembrandt hung. He paused before the picture in a hesitating, fascinated way. His feet seemed to pull up before it involuntarily.

"What does it mean?" he muttered. "What in the name of fate has happened? It is impossible that Merritt could have played me a trick like that; he would never have dared. Besides, he has too much to gain by following my instructions. I fancy—"

Henson slipped up to the picture as a sudden idea came to him. If the picture had not been removed at all the stays would still be intact. And if they were intact Merritt was likely to have a bad quarter of an hour later on. It would be proof that—

But the stays were not intact. The heads had been shaved off with some cutting instrument; the half of the stays gleamed like silver in the morning light. And yet the Rembrandt was there. The more Henson dwelt upon it the more he was puzzled. He began to wonder whether some deep trap was being laid for him.

But, no, he had seen no signs of it. In some way or another Bell had managed to ingratiate himself with Littimer again, but not necessarily for long, Henson told himself, with a vicious grin. Nor was Littimer the kind of man who ever troubled himself to restrain his feelings. If he had got to the bottom of the whole business he would have had Henson kicked out of the house without delay.

But Littimer suspected nothing. His greeting just now showed that Bell suspected nothing, because he had shaken hands in the heartiest manner possible. And as for Miss Lee, she was no more than a smart Yankee girl, and absolutely an outsider.

Still, it was dreadfully puzzling. And it was not nice to be puzzled at a time when the arch-conspirator ought to know every move of the game. Therefore it became necessary to go into Moreton Wells and see Merritt without delay. As Henson crossed the hall the cheerful voice of Littimer hailed him.

"Reginald," he cried, "I want your assistance and advice."

With a muttered curse Henson entered the library. Littimer was seated at a table, with a cigarette in his mouth, his brows drawn over a mass of papers.

"Sit down and have a cigar," he said. "The fact is I am setting my affairs in order—I am going to make a fresh will. If you hadn't come down last night I should probably have sent for you. Now take my bank-book and check those figures."

"Shall we be long?" Henson asked, anxiously.

Littimer tartly hoped that Henson could-spare him an hour. It was not usual, he said, for a testator to be refused assistance from the chief benefactor under his will. Henson apologized, with a sickly smile. He had important business of a philanthropic kind in Moreton Wells, but he had no doubt that it could wait for an hour. And then for the best part of the morning he sat fuming politely, whilst Littimer chattered in the most amiable fashion. Henson had rarely seen him in a better mood. It was quite obvious that he suspected nothing. Meanwhile Chris and Bell were bowling along towards Moreton Wells. They sat well back in the roomy waggonette, so that the servants could not hear them. Chris regarded Bell with a brilliant smile on her face.

"Confess," she said, "confess that you are consumed with curiosity."

"It would be just as well to acknowledge it at once," Bell admitted. "In the happy old days your sister Enid always said that you were the clever and audacious one of the family. She said you would do or dare anything."

"I used to imagine so," Chris said, more quietly. "But the life of the last few years tried one's nerves terribly. Still, the change has done me a deal of good—the change and the knowledge that Reginald Henson regards me as dead. But you want to know how I am going to get the Rembrandt?"

"That is what is consuming me at present," Bell said.

"Well, we are going to see the man who has it," Chris explained, coolly. "I have his address in Moreton Wells at the present moment, and for the rest he is called the Rev. James Merritt. Between ourselves he is no more a reverend than you are."

"And if the gentleman is shy or refuses to see us?"

"Then he will be arrested on a charge of theft."

"My dear young lady, before you can get a warrant for that kind of thing you have to prove the theft, you have to swear an information to the effect that you believe the property is in the possession of the thief, and that is not easy."

"There is nothing easier. I am prepared to swear that cheerfully."

"That you actually know that the property is in the possession of the thief?"

"Certainly I do. I saw him put it in his pocket."

Bell looked at the speaker with blank surprise. If such was the fact, then Chris's present statement was exactly opposed to all that she had said before. She sat opposite to Bell, with a little gleam of mischief in her lovely eyes.

"You saw that man steal the Rembrandt?" Bell gasped.

"Certainly not. But I did see him steal my big diamond star and put it in his pocket. And I can swear an information on that."

"I see that you have something interesting to tell me," Bell said.

"Oh, indeed, I have. We will hark back now to the night before last, when Reginald Henson made his personal attempt to obtain the Rembrandt and then played the trick upon you that was so very near to being a brilliant success."

"It would have been but for you," Bell murmured.

"Well, really, I am inclined to think so. And perhaps Lord Littimer would have given you in custody on a second charge of theft. If he had done so it would have gone hard with you to prove your innocence. But I am wandering from the point. Henson failed. But he was going to try again. I watched him carefully yesterday and managed to see his letters and telegrams. Then I found that he had telegraphed to James Merritt, whose address in Moreton Wells I carefully noted down. It did not require much intellect to grasp the fact that this Merritt was to be the accomplice in the new effort to steal the picture, Mr. Merritt came over and saw his chief, with whom he had a long conversation in the grounds. I also forced myself on Mr. Merritt's notice.

"He was introduced to me as a brand plucked from the burning, a converted thief who had taken orders of some kind. He is a sorry-looking scoundrel, and I took particular note of him, especially the horrible smashed thumb."

"The what!" Bell exclaimed. "A thumb like a snake's head with a little pink nail on it?"

"The same man. So you happen to have met him?"

"We met on our way here," Bell said, drily. "The rascal sent the dogcart away from the station so that I should have to walk home, and he attacked me in the road. But I half-expected something of the kind, and I was ready for him. And he was the man with the thumb. I should have told you all this before, but I had forgotten it in watching your fascinating diplomacy. When the attack was defeated the rascal bolted in the direction of the cliffs. Of course, he was off to tell Henson of the failure of the scheme and to go on with the plot for getting the other picture. If he had stolen my Rembrandt then the other would have remained. I couldn't have turned up with a cock-and-bull story of having started with the picture and being robbed of it by a total stranger in the road ... But I am interrupting you."

"Well, I marked that thumb carefully. I have already told you that the thief passed me on his way to the house when he came up the cliff. I was leaning over the terrace when I saw him emerge into a band of light caused by the big arc in the castle tower. I forgot that I was in deep shadow and that he could not possibly see me. I jerked my head back suddenly, and my diamond star fell out and dropped almost at the feet of the intruder. Then he saw it, chuckled over it—placed it in his pocket. I was going to call out, but I didn't. I had a sudden idea, Dr. Bell—I had an idea that almost amounted to an inspiration."

Chris paused for a moment and her eyes sparkled. Bell was watching her with the deepest interest and admiration.

"I let the man keep it," Chris went on, more slowly, "with an eye to the future. The man had stolen the thing and I was in a position to prove it. He would be pretty sure to pawn the star—he probably has done so by this time, and therefore we have him in our power. We have only to discover where the diamonds have been 'planted'—is that the correct expression?—I can swear an information, and the police will subsequently search the fellow's lodgings. When the search is made the missing Rembrandt will be found there. Mr. Merritt would hardly dare to pawn that."

"Even if he knew its real value, which I doubt," Bell said, thoughtfully. "Henson would not tell his tool too much. Let me congratulate you upon your idea, Miss Chris. That diamond star of yours is a powerful factor in our hands, and you always have the consciousness of knowing that you can get it back again. Now, what are we going to do next?"

"Going to call upon Mr. Merritt, of course," Chris said, promptly. "You forget that I have his address. I am deeply interested in the welfare of the criminal classes, and you are also an enthusiast. I've looked up the names of one or two people in the directory who go in for that kind of thing, and I'm going to get up a bazaar at Littimer Castle for the benefit of the predatory classes who have turned over a new leaf. I am particularly anxious for Mr. Merritt to give us an address. Don't you think that will do?"

"I should think it would do very well indeed," Bell said.

The quaint and somewhat exclusive town of Moreton Wells was reached in due course and the street where the Rev. James Merritt resided located at length. It was a modest two-storeyed tenement, and the occupier of the rooms was at home. Chris pushed her way gaily in, followed by Bell, before the occupant could lay down the foul clay pipe he was smoking and button the unaccustomed stiff white collar round his throat. Merritt whipped a tumbler under the table with amazing celerity, but no cunning of his could remove the smell of gin that hung pungently on the murky atmosphere.

Merritt dodged his head back defiantly as if half expecting a blow. His eyes were strained a little anxiously over Bell's shoulder as if fearful of a shadow. Bell had seen the type before—Merritt was unconsciously looking for the police.

"I am so glad to find you at home," Chris said, sweetly.

Merritt muttered something that hardly sounded complimentary. It was quite evident that he was far from returning the compliment. He had recognised Bell, and was wondering fearfully if the latter was as sure of his identity. Bell's face betrayed nothing. All the same he was following Merritt's uneasy eye till it rested on a roll of dirty paper on the mantelshelf. That roll of paper was the missing Rembrandt, and he knew it.

"Won't you offer me a chair?" Chris asked, in the sweetest possible manner.

Merritt sulkily emptied a chair of a pile of cheap sporting papers, and demanded none too politely what business the lady had with him. Chris proceeded to explain at considerable length. As Merritt listened his eyes gleamed and a broadening grin spread over his face. He had done a great deal of that kind of thing, he admitted. Since Henson had taken him up the police had not been anything like so inquisitive, and his present pose was fruitful of large predatory gains. The latter fact Merritt kept to himself. On the whole the prospect appealed to his imagination. Henson wouldn't like it, but, then, Henson was not in a position to say too much.

"I thought perhaps if you came over with us and dined at the castle," Chris suggested. She spoke slowly and thoughtfully, with her eyes on the ground. "Say to-night. Will you come?"

Merritt grinned extensively once more. The idea of his dining at the castle appealed to his own peculiar sense of humour. He was at his ease, seeing that Bell failed to recognise him. To dine at the castle, to note the plate, and get a minute geographical knowledge of the place from personal observation! ... His mouth watered at the thought.

"They ought to be more careful yonder," he suggested. "There's plate and there's pictures."

"Nothing has ever been stolen from Littimer Castle," Bell said, crisply. He read the leer in Merritt's eyes as he spoke of pictures. "Nothing whatever."

"What, not lately?" Merritt asked. "Didn't I hear tell of a—"

He paused, conscious of saying too much. Bell shook his head again. An utterly puzzled expression crept over Mr. Merritt's engaging countenance. At the present moment an art treasure of price stood in that very room, and here was a party from the castle utterly innocent of the robbery. Chris glanced at Bell and smiled.

"I love the pictures," she said, "especially the prints. That Rembrandt, 'The Crimson Blind,' for instance. I found a fresh light in it this morning and called Lord Littimer's attention to it before we started. I should lock that up if it were mine."

Merritt's eyes fairly bulged as he listened. Had he not half-suspected some deep "plant" he would have been vastly amused. But then he had got the very picture these people were speaking about close to hand at the very moment.

"Tell you what," he said, suddenly. "I ain't used to swell society ways, but I'm always ready to sacrifice myself to the poor fellows who ain't found the straight path like me. And if you gets up your bazaar, I'll do what I can to 'elp."

"Then you will dine with us to-night?" Chris asked, eagerly. "Don't say no, I met a man once with a past like yours at Lady Roslingham's, and he was so interesting. We will call for you in an hour's time with the waggonette. Then we can settle half our plans before dinner."

Merritt was graciously pleased to be agreeable. Moreover, he was utterly puzzled and absolutely consumed with an overpowering curiosity. It seemed also to him to be a sheer waste of providence to discard such an offer. And the plate at Littimer Castle was superb!

Meanwhile Chris and Bell walked down the street together. "He was puzzled over the Rembrandt," Chris said. "Seeing that he has our picture—"

"No doubt about it. The picture was rolled up and stood on the mantelshelf. I followed Merritt's gaze, knowing perfectly well that it would rest presently on the picture if it was in the room. At the same time, our interesting friend, in chuckling over the way he has deceived us, clean forgot the yellow pawnticket lying on the table."

"Dr. Bell, do you mean to say that—"

"That I know where your diamond star was pledged. Indeed I do. Merritt had probably just turned out his pockets as we entered. The pawnticket was on the table and related to a diamond aigrette pawned by one James Merritt—mark the simple cunning of the man—with Messrs. Rutter and Co., 117, High Street. That in itself is an exceedingly valuable discovery, and one we can afford to keep to ourselves for the present. At the same time I should very much like to know what Rutter and Co. are like. Let me go down to the shop and make some simple purchase."

Rutter and Co. proved to be a very high-class shop indeed, despite the fact that there was a pawnbroking branch of the business. The place was quite worthy of Bond Street, the stock was brilliant and substantial, the assistants quite above provincial class. As Bell was turning over some sleeve-links, Chris was examining a case of silver and gold cigarette-cases and the like. She picked up a cigar-case at length and asked the price. At the mention of fifty guineas she dropped the trifle with a little moue of surprise.

"It looks as if it had been used," she said.

"It is not absolutely new, madam," the assistant admitted, "therefore the price is low. But the gentleman who sold it to us proved that he had only had it for a few days. The doctor had ordered him not to smoke in future, and so—"

Chris turned away to something else. Bell completed his purchase, and together they left the shop. Once outside Chris gripped her companion's arm excitedly.

"Another great discovery," she said. "Did you see me looking at that cigar-case—a gun-metal one set with diamonds? You recollect that Ruth Gates purchased a case like that for that—that foolishness we thought of in connection with Mr. Steel. The case had a little arrow shaped scratch with the head of the arrow formed of the biggest diamond. Enid told me all this the night before I left Longdean Grange. Dr. Bell, I am absolutely certain that I have had in my hand just now the very case bought by Ruth from Lockhart's in Brighton!"



CHAPTER XXXVI

A BRILLIANT IDEA

Bell was considerably impressed with the importance of Chris's discovery, though at the same time he was not disposed to regard it in the light of a coincidence.

"It's a useful discovery in its way," he said; "but not very remarkable when you come to think of it. Somebody with an eye to damaging Steel changed that cigar-case. How the change affected Steel you know as well as I do. But the cigar-case purchased by Ruth Gates must be somewhere, and we are as likely to find it near Reginald Henson as anywhere else, seeing that he is at the bottom of the whole business. That change was made either by himself or by somebody at his instigation. Once the change was made he would not bother about the spare cigar-case. His ally probably came here to see Henson; the latter as likely as not threw him over, knowing that the fellow would not dare to talk; hence the thing is turned into money. I am merely speculating, of course, under the assumption that you are quite sure of your facts."

"Absolutely," Chris cried, eagerly. "Two long, irregular scratches leading up in arrow-headed shape to the big diamond in the centre. Ruth told Enid all about that the very last time they discussed the matter together."

"How came Ruth Gates to remember it so clearly?"

"Well, she did it herself. She was rubbing some specks off the case at the last moment, and the scratches were made accidentally with the stones in one of her rings."

Bell was fain to admit that the discovery was an important one. "We'll leave it for the present," he said. "In a small place like this so valuable an article is likely to remain in stock for some time. I'll call in again to-morrow on the pretence of getting further goods and obtain all the information there is to be gained as to who sold the case and what he was like. There is just time for a little lunch before we take up our reverend friend. Where shall we go?"

Chris would like to see the Lion. There was a marvellous coffee-room there with panelled walls and a ceiling by Pugin, and an Ingle-nook filled with rare Dutch tiles. They had the beautiful old place to themselves, so that they could talk freely. Chris crumbled her bread and sipped her soup with an air of deep abstraction.

"A great idea is forming itself in my mind," she said.

"What, another one?" Bell smiled. "Is it the air of the place or what? Really, there is a brilliancy about you that is striking."

Chris laughed. She was full of the joy of life to-day.

"It is the freedom," she said. "If you only knew what it is to feel free after the dull, aching, monotonous misery of the last few years. To be constantly on the treadmill, to be in the grasp of a pitiless scoundrel. At first you fight against it passionately, with a longing to be doing something, and gradually you give way to despair. And now the weight is off my shoulders, and I am free to act. Fancy the reward of finding Reginald Henson out!"

"Reginald Henson is the blight upon your house. In what way?"

"Ah, I cannot tell you. It is a secret that we never discuss even among ourselves. But he has the power over us, he has blighted all our lives. But if I could get hold of a certain thing the power would be broken. That is what I am after, what I am working for. And it is in connection with my endeavour that the new idea came to me."

"Can't you give me some general idea of it?" Bell asked.

"Well, I want to make Merritt my friend. I want him to imagine that I am as much of an adventuress as he is an adventurer. I want to let him see that I could send him to prison—"

"So you can by telling the police of the loss of your star."

"And getting Merritt arrested and sent to gaol where I couldn't make use of him? No, no. The thing is pretty vague in my mind at present. I have to work it out as one would a story; as David Steel would work it out, for instance. Ah!"

Chris clapped her hands rapturously, and a little cry of delight escaped her.

"The very thing," she exclaimed. "If I could lay all the facts before Mr. Steel and get him to plan out all the details! His fertile imagination would see a way out at once. But he is far away and there is no time to be lost. Is there no way of getting at him?"

Chris appealed almost imploringly to her companion. She made a pretty picture with the old oak engravings behind her. Bell smiled as he helped himself to asparagus.

"Why not adopt the same method by which you originally introduced yourself to the distinguished novelist?" he asked. "Why not use Littimer's telephone?"

Chris pushed her plate away impetuously.

"I am too excited to eat any more," she said. "I am filled with the new idea. Of course, I could use the telephone to speak to Mr. Steel, and to Enid as well. If the scheme works out as I anticipate, I shall have to hold a long conversation with Enid, a dangerous thing so long as Reginald Henson is about."

"I'll keep Henson out of the way. The best thing is to wait till everybody has gone to bed to-night and call Steel up then. You will be certain to get him after eleven, and there will be no chance of your being cut off at that hour of the night in consequence of somebody else wanting the line. The same remark applies to your sister."

Chris nodded radiantly.

"Thrice blessed telephone," she said. "I can get in all I want without committing myself to paper or moving from the spot where my presence is urgently needed. We will give Mr. Steel a pleasant surprise to-night, and this time I shall get him into no trouble."

The luncheon was finished at length, and an intimation sent to Merritt that his friends were waiting for him at the Lion. As his powerful figure was seen entering the big Norman porch Henson came down the street driving a dog-cart at a dangerous rate of speed.

"Our man is going to have his trouble for his pains," Bell chuckled. "He has come to interview Merritt. How pleased he will be to see Merritt at dinner-time."

Merritt shambled in awkwardly, obviously suppressing a desire to touch his forelock. There was a sheepish grin on his face, a suppressed triumph in his eyes. He had been recently shaved and his hair cut, but despite these improvements, and despite his clerical garb, he was not exactly the class of man to meet in a dark lane after sunset.

Chris, however, showed nothing of this in her greeting. Long before Littimer Castle was reached she had succeeded in putting Merritt quite at his ease. He talked of himself and his past exploits, he boasted of his cunning. It was only now and again that he pulled himself up and piously referred to the new life that he was now leading. Bell was studying him carefully; he read the other's mind like an open book. When the waggonette finally pulled up before the castle Littimer strolled up and stood there regarding Merritt quietly.

"So this is the gentleman you were going to bring to dinner?" he said, grimly. "I have seen him before in the company of our dear Reginald. I also—"

Chris shot Littimer an imploring glance. Merritt grinned in friendly fashion. Bell, in his tactful way, piloted the strange guest to the library before Littimer and Chris had reached the hall. The former polished his eyeglass and regarded Chris critically.

"My dear young lady," he said smoothly, "originality is a passion with me, eccentricity draws me as a magnet; but as yet I have refrained from sitting down to table with ticket-of-leave men. Your friend has 'convict' writ large upon his face."

"He has been in gaol, of course," Chris admitted, cheerfully.

"Then let me prophesy, and declare that he will be in gaol again. Why bring him here?"

"Because it is absolutely necessary," Chris said, boldly. "That man can help me—help us, Lord Littimer. I am not altogether what I seem. There is a scoundrel in your house compared with whom James Merritt is an innocent child. That scoundrel has blighted your life and the lives of your family; he has blighted my life for years. And I am here to expose him, and I am here to right the wrong and bring back the lost happiness of us all. I cannot say more, but I implore you to let me have my own way in this matter."

"Oh!" Littimer said, darkly, "so you are masquerading here?"

"I am. I admit it. Turn me out if you like; refuse to be a party to my scheme. You may think badly of me now, probably you will think worse of me later on. But I swear to you that I am acting with the best and purest motives, and in your interest as much as my own."

"Then you are not entitled even to the name you bear?"

"No, I admit it freely. Consider, I need not have told you anything. Things cannot be any worse than they are. Let me try and make them better. Will you, will you trust me?"

Chris's voice quivered, there were tears in her eyes. With a sudden impulse Littimer laid his hands upon her shoulders and looked long and searchingly into her eyes.

"Very well," he said, with a gentle sigh. "I will trust you. As a matter of fact, I have felt that I could trust you from the first. I won't pry into your schemes, because if they are successful I shall benefit by them. And if you like to bring a cartload of convicts down here, pray do so. It will only puzzle the neighbours, and drive them mad with curiosity, and I love that."

"And you'll back me up in all I say and do?" Chris asked.

"Certainly I will. On the whole, I fancy I am going to have a pleasant evening. I don't think dear Reginald will be pleased to see his friend at dinner. If any of the spoons are missing I shall hold you responsible."

Chris went off to her room well pleased with the turn of events. Brilliant audacity had succeeded where timid policy might have resulted in dismal failure. And Littimer had refrained from asking any awkward questions. From the window she could see Bell and Merritt walking up and down the terrace, the latter talking volubly and worrying at a big cigar as a dog might nuzzle at a bone. Chris saw Littimer join the other two presently and fall in with their conversation. His laugh came to the girl's ear more than once. It was quite evident that the eccentric nobleman was enjoying the ex-convict's society. But Littimer had never been fettered by conventional rules.

The dog-cart came up presently and Henson got out. He had an anxious, worried look; there was an ugly frown between his brows. He contrived to be polite as Chris emerged. He wanted to know where Littimer was.

"On the terrace, I fancy," Chris said, demurely. "I guess he is having a long chat with that parson friend of yours—the brand plucked from the burning, you know."

"Merritt," Henson said, hoarsely. "Do you mean to say that Merritt is here? And I've been looking for—I mean, I have been into Moreton Wells. Why did he come?"

Chris opened her eyes in innocent surprise.

"Why," she said, "I fetched him. I'm deeply interested in brands of that kind."



CHAPTER XXXVII

ANOTHER TELEPHONIC MESSAGE

Henson forced a smile to his face and a hand from his side as he approached Merritt and the rest. It was not until the two found themselves alone that the mask was dropped.

"You infernally insolent scoundrel," Henson said, between his teeth. "How dare you come here? You've done your work for the present, and the sooner you go back to your kennel in London the better. If I imagined that you meant any harm I'd crush you altogether."

"I didn't come on my own," Merritt whined. "So keep your 'air on. That young lady came and fetched me—regular gone on me, she is. And there's to be high jinks 'ere—a bazaar for the benefit of pore criminals as can't get no work to do. You 'eard what his lordship said. And I'm goin' to make a speech, like as I used to gull the chaplains. Lor', it's funny, ain't it?"

Henson failed to see the humour of the situation. He was uneasy and suspicious. Moreover, he was puzzled by this American girl, and he hated to be puzzled. She had social aspirations, of course; she cared nothing for decayed or reformed criminals, and this silly bazaar was only designed so that the ambitious girl could find her way into the county set. Then she would choose a husband, and nothing more would be heard of Merritt and Co. Henson had a vague notion that all American girls are on the look-out for English husbands of the titled order.

"Littimer must be mad," he muttered. "I can't understand Littimer; I can't understand anything. Which reminds me that I have a crow to pluck with you. Why didn't you do as I told you last night?"

"Did," said Merritt, curtly. "Got the picture and took it home with me."

"You liar! The picture is in the corridor at the present time."

"Liar yourself! I've got the picture on my mantelshelf in my sitting-room rolled up as you told me to roll it up and tied with a piece of cotton. It was your own idea as the thing was to be left about casual-like as being less calculated to excite suspicion. And there it is at the present moment, and I'll take my oath to it."

Henson fairly gasped. He had been inside that said sitting-room not two hours before, and he had not failed to notice a roll of paper on the mantelshelf. And obviously Merritt was telling the truth. And equally obviously the Rembrandt was hanging in the corridor at the present moment. Henson had solved and evolved many ingenious puzzles in his time, but this one was utterly beyond him.

"Some trick of Dr. Bell's, perhaps," Merritt suggested.

"Bell suspects nothing. He is absolutely friendly to me. He could not disguise his feelings like that. Upon my word I was never so utterly at sea before in all my life. And as for Littimer, why, he has just made a fresh will more in my favour than the old one. But I'll find out. I'll get to the bottom of this business if it costs me a fortune."

He frowned moodily at his boots; he turned the thing over in his mind until his brain was dazed and muddled. The Rembrandt had been stolen, and yet there was the Rembrandt in its place. Was anything more amazing and puzzling? And nobody else seemed in the least troubled about it. Henson was more than puzzled; deep down in his heart he was frightened.

"I must keep my eyes open," he said. "I must watch night and day. Do you suppose Miss Lee noticed anything when she called to-day?"

"Not a bit of it," said Merritt, confidently "She came to see me; she had no eyes for anybody but your humble servant. Where did she get my address from? Why, didn't you introduce me to the lady yourself, and didn't I tell her I was staying at Moreton Wells for a time? I'm goin' to live in clover for a bit, my pippin. Cigars and champagne, wine and all the rest of it."

"I wish you were at the bottom of the sea before you came here," Henson growled. "You mind and be careful what you're doing with the champagne. They don't drink by the tumbler in the society you are in now, remember. Just one or two glasses and no more. If you take too much and let your tongue run you will find your stay here pretty short."

Apparently the hint was not lost on Merritt, for dinner found him in a chastened mood. His natural audacity was depressed by the splendour and luxury around him; the moral atmosphere held him down. There were so many knives and forks and glasses on the table, such a deal of food that was absolutely strange to him. The butler behind made him shiver. Hitherto in Merritt's investigations into great houses he had fought particularly shy of butlers and coachmen and upper servants of that kind. The butler's sniff and his cold suggestion as to hock slightly raised Merritt's combative spirit. And the champagne was poor, thin stuff after all. A jorum of gin and water, or a mug of beer, was what Merritt's soul longed for.

And what a lot of plate there was on the table and sideboard! Some of it was gold, too. Merritt's greedy professional eye appraised the collection at some hundreds of pounds—hundreds of pounds—that is, after the stuff had been disposed of. In imagination he had already drugged the butler and was stuffing the plate into his bag.

Henson said very little. He was too busily engaged in watching his confederate. He wished from the bottom of his heart now that Chris had never seen Merritt. She was smiling at him now and apparently hanging on every word. Henson had seen society ladies doing this kind of thing before with well-concealed contempt. So long as people liked to play his game for him he had no objection. But this was quite different. Merrit had warmed a little under the influence of his fifth glass of champagne, but his eye looked lovingly and longingly in the direction of a silver spirit-stand on the sideboard. The dinner came to an end at length, to Henson's great relief, and presently the whole party wandered out to the terrace. Bell dropped behind with Chris.

"Now is your time," he whispered. "Henson dare not lose sight of Merritt before he goes to bed, and I'll keep the latter out here for a good long spell. I've muffled the striker of the telephone so that the bell will make no noise when you get your call back from Brighton, so that you must be near enough to the instrument to hear the click of the striker. Make haste."

Chris dropped back to the library and rapidly fluttered over the leaves of the "Telephone Directory." She found what she wanted at length and asked to be put on to Brighton. Then she sat down in an armchair in the darkness close under the telephone, prepared to wait patiently. She could just see the men on the terrace, could catch the dull glow red of their cigars.

Her patience was not unduly tried. At the end of a quarter of an hour the striker clicked furiously. Chris reached for the receiver and lay back comfortably in her chair with the diaphragm to her ear. "Are you there?" she asked, quietly. "Is that you, Mr. Steel?" To her great relief the answering voice was Steel's own. He seemed to be a little puzzled as to who his questioner was.

"Can't you guess?" Chris replied. "This is not the first time I have had you called. You have not forgotten 218, Brunswick Square, yet?"

Chris smiled as she heard Steel's sudden exclamation.

"So you are my fair friend whom I saw in the dark?" he said. "Yes, I recognise your voice now. You are Miss Chris—well, I won't mention the name aloud, because people might ask what a well-regulated corpse meant by rousing respectable people up at midnight. I hope you are not going to get me into trouble again."

"No, but I am going to ask your advice and assistance. I want you to be so good as to give me the plot of a story after I have told you the details. And you are to scheme the thing out at once, please, because delay is dangerous. Dr. Bell—"

"What's that? Will you tell me where you are speaking from?"

"I am at present located at Littimer Castle. Yes, Dr. Bell is here. Do you want him?"

"I should think so," Steel exclaimed. "Please tell him at once that the man who was found here half dead—you know the man I mean—got up and dressed himself in the absence of the nurse and walked out of the hospital this morning. Since then he has not been seen or heard of. I have been looking up Bell everywhere. Will you tell him this at once? I'll go into your matter afterwards. Don't be afraid; I'll tell the telephone people not to cut us off till I ring. Please go at once."

The voice was urgent, not to say imperative. Chris dropped the receiver into its space and crept into the darkness in the direction of the terrace.



CHAPTER XXXVIII

A LITTLE FICTION

Bell seemed to know by intuition that Chris required him, or perhaps he caught a glimpse of her white dress from the terrace. Anyway, he strolled leisurely in her direction.

"Something has happened?" he whispered, as he came up.

"Well, yes," Chris replied, "though I should like to know how you guessed that. I had no difficulty in getting Mr. Steel on the telephone, but he would say nothing directly he heard that you were here beyond a peremptory request that you were to be told at once that Van Sneck has gone."

"Gone!" Bell echoed, blankly. "What do you mean by that?"

"He has disappeared from the hospital at Brighton to-day. Mr. Steel thinks they were extra busy, or something of that kind. Anyway, Van Sneck got up and dressed himself and left the hospital without being observed. It seems extraordinary to me."

"And yet quite possible," Bell said, thoughtfully. "Van Sneck had practically recovered from the flesh wounds; it was the injury to his head that was the worst part. He resembled an irresponsible lunatic more than anything else. Steel wants me, of course?"

"He suggests that you should go down to Brighton without delay."

"All right, I'll make some excuse to take the first train in the morning. We've got a fine start of Henson, and that's a good thing. If Van Sneck comes within his net we shall have a deal of trouble. I had hoped to get permission to operate on Van Sneck, and relied upon him to solve the mystery. And now you had better go back to your telephone."

Chris hurried back again. A whispered word satisfied her that Steel was still at the other end.

"Dr. Bell starts as early as possible to-morrow," she said. "If you will listen carefully I will give you a brief outline of all that has happened since I have been here."

Chris proceeded to tell her story succinctly and briefly. From little sounds and signs she could tell that Steel was greatly interested. The story of the man with the thumb fascinated him. It appealed to his professional instincts.

"And what do you want to do with him?" Steel asked.

"Well, you see, I have him in my power," Chris explained. "We can get the other Rembrandt any time we like now, but that is quite a minor consideration. What I want is for Merritt to know that I can have him arrested at any time for stealing my star. It's Enid's star, as a matter of fact; but that is a detail."

"An important one, surely," Steel's voice came thin and clear. "Suppose that our dear friend chances to recognise it? ... No, don't ring off yet."

"I'm not. Oh, you are speaking to the Exchange people ... Yes, yes; we shall be a long time yet ... Are you there? Well, Henson has never seen the star. Enid bought it just before the great trouble came, and afterwards she never had the heart to wear it."

"I understand. You want Merritt to know this?"

"Well, I do and I don't," Chris explained. "I am anxious not to frighten the man. I want to get him in my power, and I want to prove to him that it would be to his advantage for him to come over to my side. Suppose that Enid gave it out that the star had been stolen? And suppose that I could save him at the critical moment? I shouldn't mind him thinking that I had stolen the star in the first place. That is why I am asking you as a novelist to help me."

"You would have made an excellent novelist yourself," David said, admiringly. "Give me five minutes.... Are you there? I fancy I have it. Can't you hear me? That's better. I'll see Miss Gates the first thing in the morning and get her to go over to Longdean and see your sister.... Confound it, don't cut us off yet. What does it matter so long as the messages are paid for? Nobody else wants the line. Well, I may for an hour more.... Are you there? Very sorry; it's the fault of the Post Office people. Here is the plot in a nutshell. Your sister has lost a diamond star. She gives a minute description of it to the police, and drops a hint to the effect that she believes it was taken away by mistake—in other words, was stolen—from her in London by a chance acquaintance called Christabel Lee—"

"Ah," Chris cried, "how clever you are!"

"I have long suspected it," the thin voice went on, drily. "The full description of the star will be printed in the Police Gazette, a copy of which every respectable pawnbroker always gets regularly. I suppose the people where the star was pawned are respectable?"

"Highly so. They have quite a Bond Street establishment attached."

"So much the better. They will see the advertisement, and they will communicate with the police. The Reverend James Merritt will be arrested—"

"I don't quite like that," Chris suggested.

"Oh, it's necessary. He will be arrested at the castle. Knowing his antecedents, the police will not stand upon any ceremony with him. You will be filled with remorse. You have plunged back into a career of crime again a being who was slowly climbing into the straight path once more. You take the blame upon yourself—it was at your instigation that Merritt pawned the star."

"But, really, Mr. Steel—"

"Oh, I know. But the end justifies the means. You save Mr. Merritt, there is a bond of sympathy between you, he will regard you as a great light in his interesting profession. You saved him because you had appropriated the star yourself."

"And go to gaol instead of Mr. Merritt?"

"Not a bit of it. The star you deemed to be yours. You had one very like it when you saw Miss Henson, when you were staying in London at the same hotel. By some means the jewels got mixed. You are confident that an exchange has been made. Also you are confident that if Miss Henson will search her jewel-case she will find a valuable star that does not belong to her. Miss Henson does so, she is distressed beyond measure, she offers all kinds of apologies. Exit the police. You need not tell Merritt how you get out of the difficulty, and thus you increase his respect for you. There, that would make a very ingenious and plausible magazine story. It should be more convincing in real life."

"Capital!" Chris murmured. "What an advantage it is to have a novelist to advise one! Many, many thanks for all your kindness. Good-night!"

Chris rang off with a certain sense of relief. It was some time later before she had a chance of conveying to Bell what had happened. He listened gravely to all that Chris had to say.

"Just the sort of feather-brained idea that would occur to a novelist," he said. "For my part, I should prefer to confront Merritt with his theft, and keep the upper hand of him that way."

"And he would mistrust me and betray me at the first opportunity. Besides, in that case, he would know at once that I wanted to get to the bottom of his connection with Reginald Henson. Mr. Steel's plan may be bizarre, but it is safe."

"I never thought of that," Bell admitted. "I begin to imagine that you are more astute than I gave you credit for, which is saying a great deal."

Chris was down early the following morning, only to find Bell at breakfast with every sign of making an early departure. He was very sorry, he explained, gravely, to his host and Chris, but his letters gave him no option, He would come back in a day or two if he might. A moment later Henson came into the room, ostentatiously studying a Bradshaw.

"And where are you going?" Littimer asked. "Why do you all abandon me? Reginald, do you mean to say that you are going to refuse me the light of your countenance?"

"Is Dr. Bell going, too?" Henson asked, with just a suggestion of uneasiness. "I mean—er—"

"Business," Bell said. "I came here at great personal inconvenience. And you?"

"London," Henson replied. "A meeting to-day that I cannot get out of. A couple of letters by this morning's post have decided me."

Chris said nothing; she appeared to be quite indifferent until she had a chance to speak to Bell alone. She looked a little anxious.

"He has found out about Van Sneck," she said. "Truly he is a marvellous man! And he had no letters this morning. I opened the post-bag personally. But I'm glad he's going, because I shall have James Merritt all to myself."



CHAPTER XXXIX

THE FASCINATION OF JAMES MERRITT

On the whole Mr. James Merritt, ex-convict and now humanitarian, was enjoying himself immensely. He did not sleep at the castle, for Lord Littimer drew the line there, but he contrived to get most of his meals under that hospitable roof, and spent a deal of time there. It was by no means the first time he had been "taken up" by the aristocracy since his conversion, and his shyness was wearing off. Moreover, Henson had given his henchman strict instructions to keep his eyes open with a view to getting at the bottom of the Rembrandt mystery.

Still, there is always a crumpled rose-leaf somewhere, and Merritt had his. A few days after Henson departed so hurriedly from town the stolen Rembrandt disappeared from Merritt's rooms. Nobody knew anything about it; the thing had vanished, leaving no trace of the thief behind. Perhaps Merritt would have been less easy in Littimer's society had he known that the missing print was securely locked away in the latter's strong room. Still, had Merritt been acquainted with the classics, carpe diem would like as not have been his favourite motto. He declined to worry over the matter until Henson's return. It was not for him to know, yet, that Chris had actually gone over to Moreton Wells, and, during the absence of Merritt's landlady, calmly walked into the house and taken the picture away.

"You are going to see some fun presently," she said, coolly, to the astonished Littimer, as she laid the missing picture before him. "No, I shall not tell you anything more at present. You shall hear the whole story when Reginald Henson stands in the pillory before you. You know now that Henson was at the bottom of the plot to destroy Dr. Bell's character?"

"I always felt that our Reginald was a great scoundrel," Littimer purred over his cigarette. "And if you succeed in exposing him thoroughly I shall watch the performance with the greatest possible pleasure. I am not curious, my dear young lady, but I would give sixpence to know who you are."

"Keep your sixpence," Chris laughed, "and you'll know all in good time. All I ask is not to be astonished at anything that happens."

Littimer averred that he had long since lost the power of astonishment. There was a brightness and restlessness about Chris to-day that considerably added to her charms. It was nearly a week now since Bell and Henson had departed, and in the meantime Chris had heard nothing from Longdean. Half an hour before a telegram had arrived to the effect that a gentleman in a blue coat might be expected at Littimer Castle at any moment. The police were coming, and Merritt was late to-day. If Merritt failed to turn up the whole situation would be spoilt. It was with a feeling of unutterable relief that Chris saw him coming up the drive.

"Come on the terrace," she said. "I have something very serious to say to you. Mr. Merritt, you have got us both into very serious trouble. Why did you do it?"

"Ain't done nothing," Merritt said, doggedly. He repeated the old formula, "What's up?"

"Er—it's about my diamond star," said Chris. "I lost it a few days ago. If I had known what was going to happen I should have put up with my loss. But I made inquiries through the police without saying a word to anybody, and now I find the star was pawned in Moreton Wells."

"Oh, lor," Merritt gasped. "You don't mean to say the police know that, miss?"

"Indeed I do. You see, once I allowed matters to go out of my hands I was powerless. The case now rests entirely with the police. And I am informed that they may come here and arrest you at any moment. I fear there is no escape for you—you pawned the thing yourself in your own name. What a thousand pities you yielded to sudden temptation."

"But I found it," Merritt whined. "I'll take my oath as I found it under the terrace. I—I—was rambling along the cliffs one day and I found it. And I didn't know it was yours. If I had known it was yours, I'd never have gone and done no such a thing."

Chris shook her head sadly.

"And just as you were getting on so nicely," she said.

"That's it," Merritt whined, brokenly. "Just as I was properly spoofing everybody as I—I mean just as I was getting used to a better life. But you can save me, miss; you can say as you were hard up for money and that, knowing as I knew the ropes, you got me to pawn it for you. Put it in that way and there's not a policeman in England as can touch me."

"I had thought of it," Chris said, with a pretty assumption of distress. "But, but—Mr. Merritt, I have a terrible confession to make. It was not I who started the police: it was somebody else. You see, the star was not my property at all. I—I got it in London."

Mr. Merritt looked up with involuntary admiration.

"You don't mean to say as you nicked it?" he asked. "Well, well."

Chris bent her face lower to conceal her agitation, Her shoulders were heaving, but not with emotion. The warmth of Merritt's admiration had moved her to silent laughter, and she had made the exact impression that she had desired.

"I have telegraphed to the lady, who is more or less of a friend of mine," she said. "I have urged her to take no further steps in the matter. I fancy that she is a good and kind girl and that—but a reply might come at any time."

There was a reply on the way now, as Chris knew perfectly well. The whole thing had been carefully arranged and planned to the moment by Steel and the others.

"I dare say they'll let you down easy," Merritt said, disconsolately; "but it'll be hot for me. I've copped it too many times before, you see."

"Yes, I see," Chris said, thoughtfully. "Mr. Merritt, I have made up my mind: if I had not—er—borrowed that star, it would not have been lost, and you would not have found it, and there would have been no trouble. My conscience would not rest if I allowed you to be dragged back into the old life again. I am going to save you—I am going to tell the police that you pawned that star for me at my instigation."

Merritt was touched even to tears. There was not an atom of chivalry in the rascal's composition. He had little or no heed for the trouble that his companion appeared to be piling up for herself, but he was touched to the depths of his soul. Here was a clever girl, who in her own way appeared to be a member of his profession, who was prepared to sacrifice herself to save another. Self-sacrifice is a beautiful and tender thing, and Merritt had no intention of thwarting it.

"Do that, and I'm your pal for life," he said, huskily. "And I never went back on a pal yet. Ask anybody as really knows me. 'Tain't as if you weren't one of us, neither. I'd give a trifle to know what your little game is here, eh?"

Chris smiled meaningly. Merritt's delusion was distinctly to be fostered.

"You shall help me then, presently," she said in a mysterious whisper. "Help me and keep your own counsel, and there will be the biggest job you ever had in your life. Only let you and I get out of this mess, and we shall see what we shall see presently."

Merritt looked speechless admiration. He had read of this class of high-toned criminals in the gutter stories peddled by certain publishers, but he had never hoped to meet one in the flesh. He was still gazing open-mouthed at Chris as two men came along the avenue.

They were both in plain clothes, but they had "policeman" writ large all over them.

"Cops, for a million," Merritt gurgled, with a pallid face. "You can tell 'em when you're asleep. And they are after me; they're coming this way. I'll be all right presently."

"I hope so," Chris said, with a curling lip. "You look guilty enough now."

Merritt explained that it was merely the first emotion, and would pass off presently. Nor did he boast in vain. He was quite cool as the officers came up and called him by name.

"That's me," Merritt said. "What's the trouble?"

One of the officers explained. He had no warrant, he said, but all the same he would have to trouble Mr. Merritt to accompany him to Moreton Wells. A diamond star not yet definitely identified had been handed over to the police, the same having been pawned by James Merritt.

"That's quite right," Merritt said, cheerfully. "I pawned it for this young lady here—Miss Lee. Of course, if it is not her property, why, then—"

The officer was palpably taken back. He knew more than he cared to say. The star had been pledged by Merritt, as he cheerfully admitted, but the owner of the star had lost the gem in London under suspicious circumstances in which Miss Lee was mixed up. And at present it was not the policy of the police to arrest Miss Lee. That would come later.

"I am afraid that there has been a misapprehension altogether," Chris said. "Allow me to explain: Mr. Merritt, would you step aside for a moment? I have to speak of private matters. Thank you. Now, sir, I am quite prepared to admit that the ornament pledged does not belong to me, but to Miss Henson, whom I met in London. I took the star by mistake. You may smile, but I have one very like it. If Miss Henson had searched her jewels properly she would have found that she had my star—that I had hers. I heard of the business quite by accident, and telegraphed to Miss Henson to look searchingly amongst her jewels. She has a large amount, and might easily have overlooked my star. Here is a boy with a telegram. Will you take it from him and read it aloud? It is addressed to me, you will find."

It was. It was signed "Enid Henson"; it went on to say that the sender was fearfully sorry for all the trouble she had caused, but that she had found Miss Lee's star with her jewels. Also she had telegraphed at once to the police at Moreton Wells to go no farther.

"Looks like a mistake," the officer muttered. "But if we get that telegram—"

"Which has reached the police-station by this time," Chris interrupted. "Come into the castle and ask the question over the telephone. I suppose you are connected?"

The officer said they were; in fact, they had only recently joined the Exchange. A brief visit to the telephone, and the policeman came back, with a puzzled air and a little more deference in his manner, with the information that he was to go back at once, as the case was closed.

"I've seen some near things in my time, but nothing nearer than this," he said. "Still, it's all right now. Very sorry to have troubled you, miss."

The officers departed with the air of men who had to be satisfied, despite themselves. Merritt came forward with an admiration almost fawning. He did not know quite how the thing had happened, but Chris had done the police. Smartness and trickery of that kind were the highest form of his idolatry. His admiration was nearly beyond words.

"Well, strike me," he gasped. "Did ever anyone ever see anything like that? You, as cool as possible, and me with my heart in my mouth all the time. And there ain't going to be no trouble, no sort of bother over the ticket?"

"You hand over that ticket to me," Chris smiled, "and there will be an end of the matter. And if you try to play me false in any way, why, it will be a bad day for you. Give me your assistance, and it will be the best day's work you ever did in your life."

Merritt's heart was gained. His pride was touched.

"Me go back on you?" he cried, hoarsely. "After what you've done? Only say the word, only give old Jim Merritt a call, and it's pitch-and-toss to manslaughter for those pretty eyes of yours. Good day's work! Aye, for both of us."

And Chris thought so too.



CHAPTER XL

A USEFUL DISCOVERY

Waiting with the eagerness of the greyhound in leash, David Steel was more annoyed and vexed over the disappearance of the wounded Van Sneck than he cared to admit. He had an uneasy feeling that the unseen foe had checkmated him again. And he had built up so many hopes upon this strangely-uninvited guest of his. If that man spoke he could tell the truth. And both Cross and Bell had declared that he would not die.

David found Cross in a frame of mind something like his own. It was late in the afternoon before it transpired that Van Sneck was gone, and, unfortunately, David did not know where to find Bell just at the moment. Cross had very little to say.

"A most unpleasant incident," he remarked. "But these things will happen, you know. We have been so busy lately, and our vigilance has been slightly relaxed. Oh, it is impossible to guard against everything, but he is certain to be found."

"You don't think," David suggested, "that anybody secretly connected with the man's past—"

"No, I don't," Cross snapped; "that would be impossible. The man had something on his mind, and so far as bodily condition was concerned he was getting quite strong again. In his dazed state he got up and dressed himself and went away. He seems to have been seeking for somebody or something for days. We are certain to have him again before long."

With which poor consolation David returned home again. He was restless and desirous of human companionship. He even resented it, as a kind of affront, that his mother had chosen at this time to go to Hassocks to stay with an old friend for a couple of days. That Mrs. Steel knew practically nothing of her son's trouble counted for naught. Therefore it was with something akin to pleasure that David found Ruth Gates waiting in the drawing-room for him when he came in from his walk on the following afternoon. Nothing had been heard of Van Sneck in the meantime, but thanks to Chris's telephone message late the previous night he had got in touch with Bell, who was coming south without delay.

There was a look of shy pleasure in Ruth's eyes and a deep carmine flush on her cheeks.

"You don't think that this is very bold of me?" she asked.

"I am pretty Bohemian in any case," David laughed, as he looked down fondly into the shy, sweet eyes. "And I'm too overjoyed to see you to think about anything else. I wish my mother was at home. No, I don't, because I have you all to myself."

"David! On an occasion like this you ought to be the pink of propriety. Do you know, I believe that I have made a great discovery?"

"Indeed, little girl! And what have you found out?"

"Well, you must tell me something before my discovery seems valuable. David, you are a close student of human nature. Is it possible for men of phenomenal cunning to make careless mistakes? Do the most clever criminals ever make childish blunders?"

"My dear child, if they didn't the police would have very little chance. For instance, I have discovered how those enemies of ours got hold of the notepaper that lured Van Sneck here. They sent a messenger to Carter's, in East Street, presumedly knowing that my dies were there, and ordered a quarter of a ream of paper and envelopes. These were to be sent to an address in East Grinstead in a hurry. Now, that was very clever and smart, but here comes the folly. Those people, in the stress of business, actually forgot to ascertain the cost and pay for the paper, so that it was down yesterday in my last quarter's bill. Oh, yes, I assure you, the most brilliant criminals do the most incredibly foolish things."

Ruth looked relieved. Her pretty features relaxed into a smile.

"Then I fancy Reginald Henson has done so," she said. "I fancy I have solved the mystery of the cigar-case—I mean, the mystery of the one I bought."

"And which was changed for the one purchased at Walen's, hence these tears. But Lockharts say that our case was really purchased by an American."

"Yes, I know. And I fancy that the manager honestly thought so. But I think I can explain that."

It was David's turn to look up eagerly.

"Do you mean it?" he exclaimed. "It will make a wonderful difference if you can. That has been one of the most bewildering knots of the whole puzzle. If we could only trace the numbers of those notes, I suppose changed at the same time as the cigar-case."

"Indeed they were not," Ruth cried. "I have ascertained that the case was changed by Henson, as you and I have already decided. Henson made the exchange not at the time we thought."

"Not when you left the package on the table for him to see?"

"No; at least I can't say. He had the other case then, probably, passed on to him by Van Sneck. Or perhaps he merely ascertained what I had purchased. That was sufficient for his purpose. Of course he must have found out all about our scheme. After I had laid my cigar-case on your doorstep a man quietly changed it for the other purchased at Walen's. But this is the alternate theory only. Any way, I am absolutely certain that you got exactly the same notes that we had placed in the original case."

"That might be," David said, thoughtfully. "But that does not explain the fact that Lockhart's sold your case to an American at the Metropole."

"I fancy I can even explain that, dear. My uncle came down suddenly to-day from London. He wanted certain papers in a great hurry. Now, those papers were locked up in a drawer at 219 given over specially to Mr. Henson. My uncle promptly broke open the drawer and took out the papers. Besides those documents the drawer contained a package in one of Lockhart's big linen-lined envelopes—a registered letter envelope, in fact. My uncle had little time to spare, as he was bound to be back in London to-night. He suggested that as the back of the drawer was broken and the envelope presumably contained valuables, I had better take care of it. Well, I must admit at once that I steamed the envelope open. I shouldn't have done so if Lockhart's name had not been on the flap. In a little case inside I found a diamond bracelet, which I have in my pocket, together with a receipted bill for seventy odd pounds made out to me."

"To you?" David cried. "Do you mean to say that—"

"Indeed I do. The receipt was made out to me, and with it was a little polite note to the effect that Messrs. Lockhart had made the exchange of the cigar-case for the diamond bracelet, and that they hoped Miss Gates would find the matter perfectly satisfactory."

David was too astonished to say anything for the moment. The skein was too tangled to be thought out all at once. Presently he began to see his way.

"Under ordinary circumstances the change seems impossible," he said. "Especially seeing that the juggling could not have been done without both the cases—but I had forgotten how easily the cases were changed. I have it! What is the date of that letter?"

Ruth slowly unfolded a document she had taken from her purse.

"The day following what you call your great adventure," she said. "Henson or somebody took the real case—my case—back to Lockhart's and changed it in my name. I had previously been admiring this selfsame bracelet, and they had tried to sell it to me. My dear boy, don't you see this is all part of the plot to plunge you deeper and deeper into trouble, to force us all to speak to save you? There are at least fifteen assistants at Lockhart's. Of course the ultimate sale of the cigar-case to this American could be proved, seeing that the case had got back into stock again, and at the same time the incident of the change quite forgotten. And when you go and ask questions at Lockhart's—as you were pretty sure to do, as Henson knew—you are told of the sale only to the American. Depend upon it, that American was Henson himself or somebody in his pay. David, that man is too cunning, too complex. And some of these days it is going to prove his fall."

David nodded thoughtfully. And yet, without something very clever and intricate in the way of a scheme, Henson could not have placed him in his present fix.

"There is only one thing to be done," he said. "You and I must go down to Lockhart's and make a few inquiries. With that diamond bracelet and letter in your possession you should have no difficulty in refreshing their memories. Will you have some tea?"

"I am too excited," Ruth laughed. "I couldn't eat or drink anything just at present. David, what a lovely house you have."

"I'm glad to hear that you are going to like it," David said, drily.

Lockhart's received their customers in the usual courtly style. They were sorry they had no recollection of the transaction to which madam referred. The sale of the bracelet was clear, because that was duly and properly recorded on the books, and as indeed was the sale of the gun-metal cigar-case to an American gentleman at the Metropole. If madam said that she had purchased the cigar-case, why—still the polite assistant was most courteously incredulous.

The production of the letter made a difference. There was a passing of confidences from one plate-glass counter to another, and presently another assistant came forward. He profoundly regretted that there had been a mistake, but he remembered the incident perfectly. It was the day before he had departed on his usual monthly visit to the firm's Paris branch. Madam had certainly purchased the cigar-case; but before the sale could be posted in the stock ledger madam had sent a gentleman to change the case for the diamond bracelet previously admired. The speaker had attended to both the sale and the exchange; in fact, his cab was waiting for him during the latter incident.

"I trust there is nothing wrong?" he asked, anxiously.

"Not in the least," Ruth hastened to reply. "The whole matter is a kind of comedy that I wanted to solve. It is a family joke, you understand. And who made the exchange?"

"Mr. Gates, madam. A tall gentleman, dressed in—"

"That is quite sufficient, thank you," said Ruth. "I am sorry to trouble you over so silly a matter."

The assistant assured madam with an air of painful reproach that nothing was counted a trouble in that establishment. He bowed his visitors out and informed them that it was a lovely afternoon, a self-evident axiom that the most disputatious could not well deny.

"You see how your inquiries might have been utterly baffled but for this find of mine," Ruth said, as the two went along North Street. "We shall find presently that the Metropole American and Reginald Henson are one and the same person."

"And you fancy that he made the exchange at Lockhart's?"

"I feel pretty certain of it," Ruth replied. "And you will be sure later on to find that he had a hand in the purchase of the other cigar-case from Walen's. Go to Marley's and get him to make inquiries as to whether or not Walen's got their case down on approval."

David proceeded to do so without further delay. Inspector Marley was out, but David left a message for him. Would he communicate by telephone later on? Steel had just finished his dinner when Marley rang him up.

"Are you there? Yes, I have seen Walen. Your suggestion was quite right. Customer had seen cigar-case exactly like it in Lockhart's, only too dear. Walen dealt with some manufacturers and got case down. Oh, no, never saw customer again. That sort of thing happens to shopkeepers every day. Yes. Walen thinks he would recognise his man again. Nothing more? Good-night, sir."



CHAPTER XLI

A DELICATE ERRAND

It looked like being a long, dull evening for Steel if he were not going to the theatre or anything of that kind. He generally read till about eleven o'clock, after which he sat up for another couple of hours plotting out the day's task for to-morrow. To-night he could only wander restlessly about his conservatory, snipping off a dead leaf here and there and wondering where the whole thing was going to end.

With a certain sense of relief David heard the front door-bell trill about eleven o'clock. Somebody was coming to see him, and it didn't matter much who in Steel's present frame of mind. But he swept into the study with a feeling of genuine pleasure as Hatherly Bell was announced.

"My dear fellow, I'm delighted to see you," he cried. "Take the big armchair. Let me give you a cigar and a whisky and soda and make you comfortable. That's better."

"I'm tired out," Bell said. "In London all day, and since six with Cross. Can you put me up for the night?"

"My bachelor bedroom is always ready, Bell."

"Thanks. I don't fancy you need be under any apprehension that anybody has spirited Van Sneck away. In the first place Henson, who seems to have discovered what happened, is in a terrible state about it. He wanted very badly to remain at Littimer, but when he heard that Van Sneck had left the hospital he came down here; in fact, we travelled together. Of course he said nothing whatever about Van Sneck, whom he is supposed to know nothing about, but I could see that he was terribly disturbed. The worst of it is that Cross was going to get me to operate on Van Sneck; and Heritage, who seems wonderfully better, was going to assist."

"Is your unfortunate friend up to that kind of thing now?" David asked.

"I fancy so. Do you know that Heritage used to have a fairly good practice near Littimer Castle? Lord Littimer knows him well. I want Heritage to come into this. I want to get at the reason why Henson has been so confoundedly good to Heritage. For years he has kept his eye upon him; for years he has practically provided him with a home at Palmer's. And when Heritage mentions Henson's name he always does so with a kind of forced gratitude."

"You think that Heritage is going to be useful to us?"

"I fancy so. Mind you, it is only my idea—what I call intuition, for want of a better word. And what have you been doing lately?"

David proceeded to explain, giving the events of the afternoon in full detail. Bell followed the account with the deepest interest. Then he proceeded to tell his own story. David appeared to be fascinated with the tale of the man with the thumb-nail.

"So Miss Chris hopes to hypnotise the man with the thumb," he said. "You have seen more of her than I have, Bell. Does she strike you as she strikes me—a girl of wonderfully acute mind allied to a pluck and audacity absolutely brilliant?"

"She is that and more," Bell said, warmly. "Now that she is free to act she has developed wonderfully. Look how cleverly she worked out that Rembrandt business, how utterly she puzzled Henson, and how she helped me to get into Littimer's good books again without Henson even guessing at the reason. And now she has forced the confidence of that rascal Merritt. She has saved him from a gaol into which she might have thrown him at any moment, she has convinced him that she is something exceedingly brilliant in the way of an adventuress, with a great coup ahead. Later on she will use Merritt, and a fine hard-cutting tool she will find him."

"Where is Henson at the present moment?" David asked.

"I left him in London this afternoon," Bell replied. "But I haven't the slightest doubt in the world that he has made his way to Brighton by this time. In all probability he has gone to Longdean."

Bell paused as the telephone bell rang out shrilly. The mere sound of it thrilled both of them with excitement. And what a useful thing the telephone had proved!

"Are you there?" came the quick, small whisper. "Is that you, Mr. Steel? I am Enid Henson."

There was a long pause, during which David was listening intently. Bell could see him growing rigid with the prospect of something keen, alert, and vigorous.

"Bell is here with me at this moment," he said. "Just wait a minute whilst I tell him. Don't go away, please. Under the circumstances it might be dangerous for me to ring you ... Just a moment. Here's a pretty mess."

"Well," Bell said, impatiently, "I'm only a mere man, after all."

"Henson is at Longdean; he turned up an hour ago, and at the present moment is having his supper in the library before going to bed. But that is not the worst part of it. Williams heard the dogs making a great noise by the gates, and went to see what was wrong. Some poor, demented fellow had climbed over the wall, and the dogs were holding him up. Fortunately, he did not seem to be conscious of his danger, and as he stood still the hounds did him no harm. Williams was going to put the intruder into the road again when Miss Henson came up. And whom do you suppose the poor, wandering tramp to be?"

Bell pitched his cigar into the grate full of flowers and jumped to his feet.

"Van Sneck, for a million," he cried. "My head to a cocoanut on it."

"The same. They managed to get the poor fellow into the house before Williams brought Henson from the lodge, and he's in the stables now in a rather excited condition. Now, I quite agree with Miss Henson that Henson must be kept in ignorance of the fact, also that Van Sneck must be got away without delay. To inform the hospital authorities would be to spoil everything and play into Henson's hands. But he must be got away to-night."

"Right you are. We'll go and fetch him. Et apres?"

"Et apres he will stay here. He shall stay here, and you shall say that it is dangerous to remove him. Cross shall be told and Marley shall be told, and the public shall be discreetly kept in ignorance for the present. I'll go over there at once, as there is no time to be lost. Miss Henson suggests that I should come, and she tells me that Williams will wait at the lodge-gates for me. But you are going to stay here."

"Oh, indeed! And why am I going to stay here?"

"Because, my dear friend, I can easily manage the business single-handed, and because you must run no risk of meeting Henson yonder. You are not now supposed to know where the family are, nor are you supposed to take the faintest interest in them. Stay here and make yourself comfortable till I return.... Are you there? I will be at Longdean as soon as possible and bring Van Sneck here. No, I won't ring off; you had better do that. I shall be over in less than an hour."

David hung up the receiver and proceeded to don a short covert coat and a cap. In the breast-pocket of the coat he placed a revolver.

"Just as well to be on the safe side," he said. "Though I am not likely to be troubled with the man with the thumb again. Still, Henson may have other blackguards; he may even know where Van Sneck is at the present moment, for all I know to the contrary."

"I feel rather guilty letting you go alone," Bell said.

"Not a bit of it," said David, cheerfully. "Smoke your cigar, and if you need any supper ring for it. You can safely leave matters in my hands. Van Sneck shall stay here till he is fit, and then you shall operate upon him. After that he ought to be as clay in the hands of the potter. So long."

And David went off gaily enough. He kept to the cliffs for the first part of the distance, and then struck off across the fields in the direction of Longdean. The place was perfectly quiet, the village was all in darkness as he approached the lodge-gates of the Grange. Beyond the drive and between the thick, sad firs that shielded the house he could see the crimson lights gleaming here and there. He could catch the rumble and scratch in the bushes, and ever and again a dog whined. The big gate was closed as David peeped in searching for his guide.

"Williams," he whispered; "Williams, where are you?"

But no reply came. The silence was full of strange, rushing noises, the rush of blood in David's head. He called again and again, but no reply came. Then he heard the rush and fret of many feet, the cry of a pack of hounds, a melancholy cry, with a sombre joy in it. He saw a light gleaming fitfully in the belt of firs.

"No help for it," David muttered. "I must chance my luck. I never saw a dog yet that I was afraid of. Well, here goes."

He scrambled over the wall and dropped on the moist, clammy earth on the other side. He fumbled forward a few steps, and then stopped suddenly, brought up all standing by the weird scene which was being solemnly enacted under his astonished eyes.



CHAPTER XLII

PRINCE RUPERT'S RING

Whilst events were moving rapidly outside, time at Longdean Grange seemed to stand still. The dust and the desolation were ever there. The gloom brooded like an evil spirit. And yet it was but the calm before the storm that was coming to banish the hoary old spectres for good.

Still, Enid felt the monotony to be as maddening as ever. There were times when she rebelled passionately against the solitude of the place. There were moments to her when it seemed that her mind couldn't stand the strain much longer.

But she had hope, that blessed legacy to the sanguine and the young. And there were times when she would creep out and see Ruth Gates, who found the Rottingdean Road very convenient for cycling just now. And there was always the anticipation of a telephone message from Chris. Originally the telephone had been established so that the household could be run without the intrusion of tradesmen and other strangers. It had seemed a great anomaly at the time, but now Enid blessed it every moment of the day. And she was, perhaps, not quite so unhappy as she deemed herself to be. She had her lover back again now, with his character free from every imputation.

The sun straggled in through the dim, dusty panes; the monotonous voice of Mrs. Henson droned in the drawing-room. It was what Williams called one of the unhappy lady's "days." Sometimes she was quiet and reasonable, at other times the dark mood hung heavily upon her. She was pacing up and down the drawing-room, wringing her hands and whimpering to herself. Enid had slipped into the grounds for a little fresh air; the house oppressed her terribly to-day. The trim lawns and blazing flowerbeds were a pleasant contrast to the misery and disorder of the house.

Enid passed on into the shadow of the plantation. A little farther on nearer the wall the dogs seemed to be excited about something. William's rusty voice could be heard expostulating with some intruder. By him stood a man who, though fairly well dressed, looked as if he had slept in his garments for days. There was a dazed, puzzled, absent expression on his face.

"You might have been killed," Williams croaked. "If you hadn't stood still they dogs would have pulled you to pieces. How did you get here?"

"I've lost it," the stranger muttered. "I've lost it somewhere, and I shall have no rest till I find it."

"Well, go and look in the road," Williams suggested, smoothly. "Nothing ever gets lost here. Just you hop over that wall and try your luck outside."

Enid came forward. Evidently the intruder was no stranger to her. Williams started to explain volubly. But Enid cut him short at once.

"A most extraordinary thing has happened," she said. "It is amazing that this man should come here of all places. Williams, this is the man Van Sneck."

"What, the chap as was wounded in the hospital, miss?"

"The same. The man is not in full possession of his senses. And if Reginald Henson finds him now it is likely to go hard with him. He must be taken into the house and looked after until I can communicate with somebody I can trust. Mr. Steel, I think. He must be got back to the hospital. It is the only place where he is safe."

Van Sneck seemed to be looking on with the vacant stare of the mindless. He suffered himself to be led to the house, where he was fed like a child. It was in vain that Enid plied him with all kinds of questions. He had lost something—he would have no peace till he had found it. This was the one burden of his cry. Enid crossed to the window in some perplexity. The next moment she had something else to occupy her mind. Reginald Henson was coming up the drive. Just for an instant Enid felt inclined to despair.

"Williams," she cried, "Mr. Henson is here. On no account must he see our unfortunate visitor. He cannot possibly know that Van Sneck is here; the whole thing is an accident. I am going down into the hall. I shall contrive to get Mr. Henson into the drawing-room. Without delay you must smuggle Mr. Van Sneck into your apartments over the stable. You will be perfectly safe if you go down the back staircase. As soon as the drawing-room door closes, go."

Williams nodded. He was essentially a man of action rather than words. With all the coolness she could summon up Enid descended to the hall. She gave a little gesture of surprise and disdain as she caught sight of Henson.

"So you came down to welcome me?" Enid said, coldly.

A sudden light of rage lit up Henson's blue eyes. He caught Enid almost roughly by the shoulders and pushed her into the drawing-room. There was something coming, she knew. It was a relief a minute or two later to hear Williams's whistle as he crossed the courtyard. Henson knew nothing of Van Sneck's presence, nor was he likely to do so now.

"You are forgetting yourself," Enid said. "How dare you touch me like that?"

"By heavens," Henson whispered, vehemently, "when I consider how I have been fooled by you I wonder that I do not strike the life out of you. Where is your sister?"

Enid assumed an air of puzzled surprise. She raised her eyebrows, coldly. But it needed no very brilliant intelligence to tell her that Henson had discovered something.

"I had only one sister," she said, "and she is—"

"Dead! Rot. No more dead than I am. A nice little scheme you had put up together with that scribbling ass David Steel. But Steel is going to get a lesson not to interfere in my affairs, and you are going to get one also. Where is your sister?"

Despite his bullying triumph there was something nervous and anxious about the tone of the question. It was not quite like Henson to let his adversary see that he had scored a point. But since the affair of the dogs Henson had not been quite his old self. It was easy to see that he had found out a great deal, but he had not found out where Chris was yet.

"I know nothing," said Enid. "I shall answer no questions."

"Very well. But I shall find out. Accident put me on the trail first. And I have been to see that man Walker. He never saw your sister after her 'death,' nor did the undertaker. And I might have met my death at the fangs of that dog you put upon me. What a fool Walker was."

Enid looked up a little anxiously. Had Walker said anything about a second opinion? Had he betrayed to Henson the fact that he had been backed up by Hatherly Bell? Because they had taken a deal of trouble to conceal the fact that Bell had been in the house.

"Dr. Walker should have called in another opinion," she said, mockingly.

"The man was too conceited for that, and you know it," Henson growled; "and finely you played upon his vanity."

Enid was satisfied. Walker had evidently said nothing about Bell; and Henson, though he had just come from Littimer, knew nothing about Chris.

"You have made a statement," she said, "and in reply I say nothing. You have chosen to assume that my sister is still alive. Well, it is a free country, and you are at liberty to think as you please. If we had anything to gain by the course you suggest—"

"Anything to gain!" Henson burst out angrily.

"Everything to gain. One whom I deemed to be dead is free to follow me to pry into my affairs, to rob me. That was part of Steel's precious scheme, I presume. If you and your sister and Miss Gates hadn't talked so loudly that day in the garden I might not—"

"Have listened," said Enid, coldly. "Ears like a hare and head like a cat. But you don't know everything, and you never will. You scoundrel, you creeping, crawling scoundrel! If I only dared to speak. If I cared less for the honour of this unhappy family—"

"If you could only get the ring," said Henson, with a malicious sneer. "But the ring is gone. The ruby ring lies at the bottom of the North Sea."

Some passionate, heedless words rose to Enid's lips, but she checked them. All she could do now was to watch and wait till darkness. Van Sneck must be got out of the way before anything else was done. She did not dare to use the telephone yet, though she had made up her mind to ask Steel to come over and take Van Sneck away. Later on she could send the message.

Van Sneck had eaten a fairly good meal, so Williams said, and had fallen into a heavy sleep. There was nothing for it but to wait and watch. Dinner came in due course, with Mrs. Henson, ragged and unkempt as usual, taking no notice of Henson, who watched her furtively during the meal. Enid escaped to her own room directly afterwards, and Henson followed his hostess to the drawing-room.

Once there his manner changed entirely. His lips grew firm, his eyes were like points of steel. Mrs. Henson was pacing the dusty floor, muttering and crooning to herself. Henson touched her arm, at the same time holding some glittering object before her eyes. It was a massive ruby ring with four black pearls on either side.

"Look here," he whispered. "Do you recognise it? Have you seen it before?"

A pitiful, wailing cry came from Mrs. Henson's lips. She was trembling from head to foot with a strange agitation. She gazed at the ring as a thirsty man in a desert might have looked on a draught of cold spring water. She stretched out her hand, but Henson drew back.

"I thought you had not forgotten it," he smiled. "It means much to you, honour, peace, happiness—your son restored to his proper place in the world. Last time I was here I wanted money, a mere bagatelle to you. Now I want L10,000."

"No, no," Mrs. Henson cried. "You will ruin me—L10,000! What do you do with all the money? You profess to give it all to charity. But I know better. Much you give away that more may come back from it. But that money you get from a credulous public. And I could expose you, ah, how I could expose you, Reginald Henson."

"Instead of which you will let me have that L10,000."

"I cannot. You will ruin me. Have you not had enough? Give me the ring."

Henson smilingly held the gem aloft. Mrs. Henson raised her arm, with the dust rising in choking clouds around her. Then with an activity astonishing in one of her years she sprang upon Henson and tore the ring from his grasp. The thing was so totally unexpected from the usually gentle lady that Henson could only gasp in astonishment.

"I have it," Mrs. Henson cried. "I have it, and I am free!"

Henson sprang towards her. With a quick, fleet step she crossed to the window and fled out into the night. A raging madness seemed to have come over her again; she laughed and she cried as she sped on into the bushes, followed by Henson. In his fear and desperation the latter had quite forgotten the dogs. He was in the midst of them, they were clustered round himself and Mrs. Henson, before he was aware of the fact.

"Give me the ring," he said. "You can't have it yet. Some day I will restore it to you. Be sensible. If anybody should happen to see you." Mrs. Henson merely laughed. The dogs were gambolling around her like so many kittens. They did not seem to heed Henson in the joy of her presence. He came on again, he made a grab for her dress, but the rotten fabric parted like a cobweb in his hand. A warning grunt came from one of the dogs, but Henson gave no heed.

"Give it me," he hissed; "or I will tear it from you."



CHAPTER XLIII

HEARING THE TRUTH

David Steel stood contemplating the weird scene with almost doubting eyes. In his wildest moments he had never imagined anything more dramatic than this. The candle in its silver sconce that Mrs. Henson had snatched up before her flight was perilously near her flimsy dress. Henson caught her once more in a fierce grip. David could stand it no longer. As Henson came by him his right arm flashed out, there was a dull thud, and Henson, without having the least idea what had happened, fell to the ground, with a very hazy idea of his surroundings for a moment or two.

Equally unconscious that she had a protector handy, Mrs. Henson turned and fled for the house. A minute later and she was followed by Henson, still puzzling his racking head to know what had happened. David would have followed, but the need for caution flashed upon him. If he stood there perfectly still Henson would never know who his antagonist was. David stood there waiting. As he glanced round he saw some little object glittering near to his feet. It was the ruby ring!

"Be you there, sir?" a rusty voice whispered close by.

"I am, Williams," David replied; "I have been waiting for some time."

Williams chuckled, making no kind of apology for his want of punctuality.

"I've been looking after our man, sir," he said. "That Dutch chap what Miss Enid said you'd come for. And I saw all that business in the shrubbery just now. My! if I didn't feel good when you laid out Henson on the grass. The sound of that smack was as good as ten years' wages for me. And he's gone off to his room with a basin of vinegar and a ream of brown paper. Why didn't you break his neck?"

David suggested that the law took a prejudiced view of that kind of thing, and that it would be a pity to hang anyone for such a creature as Reginald Henson.

"Our man is all right?" he asked.

"As a trivet," said Williams. "Sleeping like a baby; he is in my own bed over the stable. I'll show you into the harness-room, where Miss Enid's waiting for you, sir, and then I'll go and see as Henson don't come prowling about. Not as he's likely to, considering the clump on the side of the head you gave him. I take it kind of Providence to let me see that!"

Williams hobbled away, chuckling to himself and followed by David. There was a feeble oil-lamp in the harness-room. Enid was waiting there anxiously.

"So you have put Henson out of the way for a time," she said. "He passed me just now using awful language, and wondering how it had all come about. Wasn't it a strange thing that Van Sneck should come here?"

"Not very," David said. "He is evidently looking for his master, Reginald Henson. I have not the slightest doubt that he has been here many times before. Williams says he is asleep. Pity to wake him just yet, don't you think?"

"Perhaps it is. But I am horribly afraid of our dear friend Reginald, all the same."

"Our dear Reginald will not trouble us just yet. He came down as far as London with Bell. Of course he had heard the news of Van Sneck's flight. Was he disturbed?"

"I have never seen him in such a passion before, Mr. Steel. And not only was he in a passion, but he was horribly afraid about something. And he has made a discovery."

"He hasn't found out that your sister—"

"Is at Littimer Castle? That is really the most consoling part of the business. He has been at Littimer for a day or two, and he has not the remotest idea that Christabel Lee is our Chris."

"A feather in your sister's cap. She has quite captivated Littimer, Bell says."

"And she played her part splendidly. Mr. Steel, it is very, very good to know that Hatherly has cleared himself in the eyes of Lord Littimer at last. Did Reginald suspect—"

"Nothing," Steel said. "He is utterly and hopelessly puzzled over the whole business. And Bell has managed to convince him that he is not suspected at all. That business over the Rembrandt was really a brilliant bit of comedy. But what has Henson found out?"