struck a light, and held it above my head. Nothing to be seen, so I stepped forward, lit the candles on the toilette-table, and peered about.
"Hullo!" cried a voice behind me, and Lord Gurtleigh sprang into the room. "Anyone there?"
"No," I said, "we are too late."
A minute's search proved that I was right, and then we turned to the door, which was carefully bolted on the inside; and, as we threw it open, there stood Brayson, the footman, and a couple of grooms, while voices behind us told that help was ready below, the gardeners and stablemen having been called up.
"Mind!" I shouted, running to the window, "keep back on the grass; there may be footprints there—I shall want to examine."
Then I stood thinking for a moment before issuing my orders as promptly as I could, sending grooms off mounted to summon the police, and then ride on to the railway station, and ask for help to detain any suspicious-looking people; while the gardeners went to scour the grounds and rouse the keepers, watchers, and people at the nearest farms.
It all proved labour in vain, and towards morning I sat fagged out—after despatching a telegram to the county town and another to London—talking to Lord and Lady Gurtleigh.
"I wouldn't care twopence," said the former, "but they've got jewels that are priceless. All poor Florry's pearls, which came from the Guicowar of Badjar Aman, and the old family diamonds."
"Don't fret, Dick, dear," said Lady Gurtleigh, quietly; "it's a great pity, but I will not mind. I daresay Charles Lester will get them back for me."
"Bless your faith," I cried, unable to repress a smile, in spite of my chagrin; "what a wonderful man you two think I am!"
"Well," said my old college chum, giving the table a rap with his fist, "wonderful or no, I do say this, if anyone can get them back it's dear old Charley here."
"Indeed!" I said, "then my dear Lady Florry, try and be resigned, for your jewels are gone for ever, unless the detectives can run the scoundrels down."
"What, have you sent for the detectives?" cried Gurtleigh.
"Of course."
"How delightful," cried Lady Gurtleigh, clapping her hands, "it will be like reading a romance."
"Humph!" ejaculated Gurtleigh, "she's not going to break her heart about the jewels."
"I should think not, indeed, dear," she cried, merrily. "They haven't killed us to get the nasty things. There now, you two poor tired creatures are to smoke a cigar each, and I'll ring for some coffee."
She rang, and Brayson appeared looking sadly troubled and bearing a tray.
"I took the liberty, my lady," he began.
"Oh, Brayson, how good of you!"
"Yes," said Lord Gurtleigh; "but, I say Brayson; you should have brought the brandy too."
"I did, my lord, I havc it outside here on a tray."
"All your doing, Charley," said Gurtleigh as soon as we were alone, "that chap's getting quite a moral, as they say down here. Here's to you, dear boy, and I hope Florry is right."
The police were soon on the spot, and at once created a revolution among the servants, who threatened to leave in a body on finding that they were suspected. The upper-housemaid being particularly demonstrative and full of angry demands that the police sergeant should search her box.
But they did not trace the thieves, neither did they make any discoveries through the pawnbrokers or diamond merchants, and the months rolled on, and it was summer once again.
"It isn't your fault, old man," Gurtleigh said to me one day when they were down at the Castle again, after spending the winter in Italy, "and, look here, I taboo the topic. Whenever we meet, you begin going on about those confounded jewels. I don't mind now, and Florry doesn't mind, so let them rest. Anyone would think they were yours, you make so much fuss."
But I could only think about those lost stones, and Lady Gurtleigh's words that if they were found it would be by me. How I had pondered over their loss, and suspected different people, but only to feel guilty afterwards of misjudging them. For again and again I had felt convinced that the theft had been committed by someone who knew the place and our habits; hence I argued that it must have been one of the out-door servants—groom, gardener, farm labourer, or perhaps even a keeper. I grew more convinced of this as time glided by; for it seemed to me that those jewels must be buried or hidden somewhere, with the
