etray the hand of experts.

A gang of Continental thieves was suspected, because, as a matter of
fact, a robbery similar in detail had, six months before, taken place
on the night express between Cologne and Berlin. In that case also a
strange ticket-inspector had been seen. The stolen property had, no
doubt, been thrown from the train to accomplices. Such method was
perfectly safe for the thief, because, unless actually detected in the
act of tossing out a bag or parcel, no evidence could very well be
brought against him.

Therefore the police, and through them the newspapers, decided that
the same gang was responsible for the theft of the Archduchess's
necklace as for the robbery in Germany.

Myself, I read eagerly every line of what appeared in the morning and
evening press.

Many ridiculous theories were put forward by some journalists in
working up the "story," and more than once I found cruel and unfounded
reflections cast upon the sole female member of the party--my dear
wife.

This was all extremely painful to me--all so utterly incomprehensible
that, as I sat alone in the silence of my deserted home, I felt that
no further misfortune could fall upon me. The iron of despair had
entered my very soul.

Marlowe called one afternoon, and I was compelled to make excuse for
Sylvia's absence, telling him she was down at Mrs. Shuttleworth's.

"You don't look quite yourself, old man," he had said. "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing," I laughed faintly. "I'm a bit run down, that's all.
Want a change, I suppose. I think I shall go abroad."

"I thought your wife had had sufficient of the Continent," he
remarked. "Curiously enough," he added, as he sat back and blew a
cloud of cigarette-smoke from his lips, "I thought I saw her the day
before yesterday standing on the railway platform at Banbury. I was
coming down from Birmingham to Oxford, and the train slowed down in
passing Banbury. I happened to be looking out at the time, and I could
have sworn that I saw her."

"At Banbury!" I ejaculated, leaning forward.

"Yes. She was wearing a dark blue dress, with a jacket to match, and a
small dark blue hat. She was with an elderly lady, and was evidently
waiting for a train. She gave me the impression that she was starting
on a journey."

"How old was her companion?"

"Oh, she was about forty, I should think--neatly dressed in black."

"It couldn't have been she," I said reflectively.

"My dear Owen, Mrs. Biddulph's b