so
I'm told."

"That he did not recognize me was, of course, my own doing," said the
King.

"I know that, sir," replied the man, "but in the detective force we
can't afford to make those sort of allowances. The consequence is--I'm
out of it."

"I'm sorry, Inspector. What do you want me to do?"

"Well, sir, I'm here because I know something that I can't tell to
another soul on earth. If I could have gone to them with it, I needn't
have troubled your Majesty. But, so happens, I haven't got the proof."

"Are you going to ask me to believe you without proof?"

"Your Majesty can get the proof--or see it anyway. It's there at Dean's
Court."

"Dean's Court? What is that?"

"Where the police museum is, sir. The proof of what I'm going to tell
your Majesty lies there."

This was getting interesting. "Pray go on," said the King.

"That bomb," said the man, "the one that was thrown at your Majesty the
other day--all the pieces of it are in the museum now."

He paused, then added--

"They have gone back to the place they came from."

It was evident then, from the man's tone, that to his own mind he had
stated the essential part of his case.

But the King, his brain working on unfamiliar ground, missed the
connection.

"I do not quite understand," he said.

"No, sir? Well, then, it's like this. After the bomb was thrown, we were
put on to the ground, and the public were kept off. All the pieces
picked up were brought to me. It must have been a very mild sort of
charge, sir, nothing much besides gunpowder I should say; no slugs nor
anything. Most of the shell I was able to put together again. It was
blackened all over, partly by fire, partly new painted I think, but,
under the black, I found lettering and numbers, all quite faint. I've
got them here." (He drew out a pocket-book as he spoke.) "D.C.M. 5537."

He closed the book with a snap as though clinching an argument.

"The bomb that had that number on it," said he, "came from Dean's Court
Museum; it's been there fifteen years. I've been in to look; that number
is missing now. You'd have thought, sir, they might have been more
careful than that!" He spoke with professional contempt for a job that
had been bungled.

The solemnity of the man's manner, and the queer mystery of it all sent
a cold sensation through the King's blood; he felt now that he was up
against something dangerous and sinister.

"What do you mean me to understand from all this?" he aske