buried his chin deeper in the warm travelling wrap.
The rest of the company turned interrogatively towards
the speaker. "A strange case," he repeated, studying
the closed eyelids in front of him; "the man who planned
that robbery and got away with all those diamonds must
be a clever man at his business, and no mistake. He'll
want some catching, that man will! But I think I know
a man as clever as he is-and quite clever enough to
do the catching for him."

"Dear me, now!" returned a passenger in a sort of
attire which, without being clerical, had a clerical look,
"I have seen no mention of the occurrence in the news-
papers. May I ask you, sir, to what affair you make
allusion?"

"Well, I shouldn't be surprised if none of the papers
had yet heard of it," answered the other; "but they'll
hear of it to-morrow morning, I dare say. We're due at
Dover at ten o'clock, and we don't stop on the way, bar
accidents. But when we do run into Dover Station, I
dare say we shall see what we shall see!"

He drew a spirit-flask out of his pocket, and took a
pull at it. His questioner had been about to put some
further query, but checked himself at the sight of the
flask. A suspicion that the man had had recourse to it
before was easily discernible upon his countenance. In
the far corner, a short, spare, youthful passenger, lost in
the folds of a roomy ulster, turned towards the window
and composed himself for sleep.

"Yes, you may say what you like about the failures
of the police," continued the person who had begun the
conversation, "but I say that the London detective force
are a body of remarkable men, and I know something

of their ways and what they do, sir, I can tell you.
Know something about them? I should think I did!"

"Bless me, now, really?" said the clerical gentleman,
evidently quite interested. "And what may be the nature
of this robbery you refer to this diamond robbery in
Park Lane; an extensive affair, now?"

"Twenty thousand pounds," replied the other, "that's
all! Twenty thousand pounds' worth, at a fair figure."
He screwed up the spirit flask, and fixed his gaze ob-
stinately on the closed eyelids opposite. "Gone out of
a safe in the strong-room, where they had been placed
for one night only: and no traces!"

"No traces whatever?"

"Nothing. But, all the same, there are certain cir-
cumstances which—well, if they do happen to be upon
the right track, they'll owe a good deal of it to me.
For I don't mind telling you that as a tradesman living
in the neighbourhood of Park Lane and serving the
house in question-Mr. Wilmot's house--Stanislas Wil-
mot, diamond merchant in Hatton Garden-wealthy old
boy as a tradesman, I say, serving the private house in
Park Lane regularly, I happen to have been situated
better than most people for knowing what was going on
inside it. However that may be, the man was a clever
one that planned this robbery."

"Well, well, well! But tell me how this Mr. Wilmot,
with premises in Hatton Garden presumably suited to
his business, came to transfer so large a quantity of
valuables to his private residence?"

"Because the quantity of valuables was large. The
consignment had only been delivered at his office on the
previous day, although he had been expecting it for a
week or two. Well, he doesn't like to trust his clerks,

and he doesn't like to trust the housekeeper in Hatton Garden, or the watchman, or the strong-rooms there, and so he prefers to take extra good stones, passing through his firm, to the little private house he occupies in Park Lane. Oh, it isn't the first time he has run the risk, by a long way. He knows what he's about, though, as a rule. There's always a special constable on duty just about there, in the lane; and the strong-room in the private house is as good as you could wish to see. He's an old swell, a widower; and you can often see him riding in the Row with a young lady he has adopted—Miss Adela, a poor relation of his wife's."

"The thief, or thieves, then, broke into the private premises during the night?"

"Who can say? The old boy brought these diamonds home without saying anything to anybody. In the presence of his butler, he deposited them as usual in his strong-room. The next morning they found both the locks intact, but the diamonds were gone."

"Is he sure he locked them up?"

"Sure? Of course he's sure! And so is his butler."
"Ah! A confidential servant, now, the butler?"
"Yes, sir, a confidential servant.”

"Quite so, just so! a confidential servant."

"Oh, I can answer for the butler. I can answer for him as I can answer for myself."

The clerical gentleman smiled sweetly, and inclined his head. If, with Master Dumbleton, he "liked not the security," he did not allow his mistrust to be manifest.

The train rushed onwards to its destination, covering mile after mile at the same headlong speed. It was the third week of December, and the weather was detestable. Driven against the carriage windows by violent gusts of

wind, the rain showered like hailstones upon the panes of glass. As the passengers flashed through the stations on their route, the lights, appearing to them for an instant only, were all blurred and indistinct. Three oc

cupants of the compartment we have travelled with were doubtless fast asleep. The clerical gentleman had not lapsed into slumber, that was clear. His lips occasionally moved as though he were engaged in the rehearsal or construction of discourse. He opened his eyes dreamily from time to time, and at one of these moments his gaze met that of his communicative, red-faced neighbour. "Going to cross the Channel, sir?" asked the latter. "Yes."

"Calais or Ostend, sir?"

"And a tolerably rough crossing it will be," pursued the other. "Are you going by the boat, yourself?"

My

"I think I shall stay a night or two at Dover. business takes me across the water every now and then, but a day sooner or later does not signify. West End tradesmen are largely supplied from the Continent, and I deal regularly with certain houses myself. Business has been bad, however. Those who do cross to-night will find it nasty in the Channel, I can tell you." He unscrewed his pocket-flask. "And there'll be some fun at Dover, if the man shows fight."

"Bless me, now? The affair you were referring to?" "Why, yes. I don't mind telling you"-the speaker stared once more at the closed eyes and the Roman nose directly opposite him--"that they've got the man suspected, or, rather, that they will have him. On all the northern lines the police are on the look-out by this time. It was thought he would make a feint of taking refuge on the Continent, and that he would go north instead. But I

believed he was bound for the Continent in reality, and unless I am very much mistaken he is in this train. The butler has been at Folkestone or Dover since this morning, and the local police were wired to watch the night mail. The butler will identify him, but there may be a confederate in the case. A detective who had seen him in suspicious company was to run down by the night-mail-this very train."

He winked most expressively as he uttered these words, and nodded with great vigour in the direction of the Roman nose and veiled gray eyes. The clerical gentleman lifted his eyebrows and pursed up his mouth in the profoundest astonishment. As a kind of confirmation and rejoinder, the other smiled upon one side of his rubicund visage, and again nodded and winked.

"Bless me!" ejaculated the clerical gentleman. "And the man whom you suspect, now-who is he?"

"A young fellow of good family, named Sinclair, private secretary to old Stanislas Wilmot until three months ago, when he was suddenly dismissed. He knew all about the old boy's business dealings, and has been seen several times in the neighbourhood of the house during the past few weeks. He gave it out that a gentleman abroad had engaged him as private secretary. We can see very well what that little manœuvre meant. A great pity, for he was generally liked, and quite a superior young gentleman. Miss Adela and he-well, well-I say nothing."

"But how could he have got into the strong-room?"

"That's just what I said. The butler thinks he must have got in simply with the keys; and as Mr. Wilmot's keys were not out of his possession for a single moment, while the diamonds were there, he thinks the young