able story.

"And you think that I stole it? You dare to think that?" flung out
his son, jerking back from him and brushing aside Lady Leake's
solicitous hand. "Very well, then, think what you jolly well please!
I'm done with the lot of you!"

And after that--the Deluge! Speaking, he turned on his heel and
rushed back to his taxi, wrenched open its door, revealing what
none of them had suspected before, because of the drawn curtains:
that the vehicle was occupied--and sang out in a fine fury, "Pull up
the blinds, Curz. Come out, old chap. Come out, Major! Come out,
Katie--all of you--at once! There isn't going to be any 'jolly lark,'
any 'pleasant surprise,' any 'killing of the fatted calf.' This
isn't a comedy--it's a tragedy! Hop out lively--the lot of you! I'm
done with my father, and I've got to get back to my place in the
ranks as fast as I can fly. I'll pay you back, Katie. I'll pay you
back, Curz, old chap! Yes, by God! I will if I drive this thing night
and day without sleeping!"

Then came a sudden banging of the taxi's door, a hoot from the
horn as he jumped back to his seat and sounded a warning note, and
in the winking of an eye he was off and away, and there in the
road stood a stout, pleasant-faced old gentleman, a youth with a
budding moustache, and a bright-faced, fairylike little lady of
about eighteen, all three of whom were standing stock still and
staring after the vanishing taxi in the blankest of blank amazement.
Of a sudden, however:

"My goodness, popper, I guess Curzon and I have sort of muffed it
somehow!" the little lady said, forlornly.

"I guess you have, honey--I guess you have. Anyhow, something's gone
bust, that's a sure thing! Let's go and ask Sir Mawson what it's all
about."

"Yes, let us by all means," put in the younger man. "Come on!"

Mr. Narkom, who heard these things, drew closer to Cleek, looked up
at him anxiously, and contrived to whisper an inquiry which fell only
upon his ally's ears.

"Found out anything, old chap?"

"Yes. From their words it is clear that Sir Mawson has taken nobody
in the house--even his son, Curzon--into his confidence regarding the
lost necklace."

"I don't mean that--I'm alluding to the others. Found out anything
about _them_?"

"Yes, and a very important thing, too: They are _not_ Diamond
Nick and Dutch Ella. Not in the least like them, neither are they
disguised. Also, Miss Eastman's injury is only a sprained wrist, it
appears. You ob