eply, "that is a thing you must be content to
leave in its native mystery" (which Leander undoubtedly was). "We in the
Criminal Investigation Department have our secret channels and our
underground sources for obtaining information, but to lay those channels
and sources bare to the public would serve no useful end, nor would it
be an expedient act on my part. All you have any claim to be told is,
that, however costly and complicated, however dangerous even, the means
employed may have been (that I say nothing about), the ultimate end has
been obtained. The Venus, sir, will be restored to her place in the
Gallery at Wricklesmarsh Court, without a scratch on her!"

"You don't say so! Lor!" cried Leander, hoping that his countenance
would keep his secret, "well, there now! And my ring, sir, if you
remember--isn't _that_ on her?"

"You mustn't expect us to do everything. Your ring was, as I had every
reason to expect it would be, missing. But I shall be talking the matter
over with Sir Peter Purbecke, who's just come back to Wricklesmarsh from
the Continent, and, provided--ahem!--you don't go talking about this
affair, I should feel justified in recommending him to make you some
substantial acknowledgment for any--well, little inconvenience you may
have been put to on account of your slight connection with the business,
and the steps I may have thought proper to take in consequence. And,
from all I hear of Sir Peter, I think he would be inclined to come down
uncommonly handsome."

"Well, Mr. Inspector," said Leander, "all I can say is this: if Sir
Peter was to know the life his statue has led me for the past few days,
I think he'd say I deserved it--I do, indeed!"

* * * * *

CONCLUSION.

The narrow passage off Southampton Row is at present without a
hairdresser's establishment, Leander having resigned his shop, long
since, in favour of either a fruiterer or a stationer.

But, in one of the leading West End thoroughfares there is a large and
prosperous hair-cutting saloon, over which the name of "Tweddle"
glitters resplendent, and the books of which would prove too much for
Matilda, even if more domestic duties had not begun to claim her
attention.

Leander's troubles are at end. Thanks to Sir Peter Purbecke's
munificence, he has made a fresh start; and, so far, Fortune has
prospered him. The devices he has invented for correcting Nature's more
palpable errors in taste are becoming