wonderful man?"

"He's a clever chap, all right," the Inspector admitted. "All the same,
I'm rather sorry he wasn't able to lay his hands on the thief."

"That's your point of view, of course," Mrs. Rheinholdt remarked. "I can
think of nothing but having my diamonds back. I feel I ought to go and
thank the Professor for recommending Mr. Quest."

The Inspector made no reply. Mrs. Rheinholdt was suddenly aware that she
was becoming a little tactless.

"Of course," she sighed, "it is disappointing not to be able to lay your
hands upon the thief. That is where I suppose you must find the
interference of an amateur like Mr. Quest a little troublesome sometimes.
He gets back the property, which is what the private individual wants, but
he doesn't secure the thief, which is, of course, the real end of the case
from your point of view."

"It's a queer affair about these jewels," the Inspector remarked. "Quest
hasn't told me the whole story yet. Here we are on the stroke of time!"

The car drew up outside Quest's house. The Inspector assisted his
companion to alight and rang the bell at the front door. There was a
somewhat prolonged pause. He rang again.

"Never knew this to happen before," he remarked. "That sort of
secretary-valet of Mr. Quest's--Ross Brown, I think he calls him--is
always on the spot."

They waited for some time. There was still no answer to their summons. The
Inspector placed his ear to the keyhole. There was not a sound to be
heard. He drew back, a little puzzled. At that moment his attention was
caught by the fluttering of a little piece of white material caught in the
door. He pulled it out. It was a fragment of white embroidery, and on it
were several small stains. The Inspector looked at them and looked at his
fingers. His face grew suddenly grave.

"Seems to me," he muttered, "that there's been some trouble here. I shall
have to take a liberty. If you'll excuse me, Mrs. Rheinholdt, I think it
would be better if you waited in the car until I send out for you."

"You don't think the jewels have been stolen again?" she gasped.

The Inspector made no reply. He had drawn from his pocket a little
pass-key and was fitting it into the lock. The door swung open. Once more
they were both conscious of that peculiar silence, which seemed to have in
it some unnamable quality. He moved to the foot of the stairs and shouted.

"Hello! Any one there?"

There was no reply. He opened the doors of the two ro