ocked, discussing the bearings of his case."

"It is a horrible affair!" burst in Mr. Loewe. "I am distracted! I am
ruined! I am in despair!"

He banged the bandbox down on the table, and flinging himself into a
chair, buried his face in his hands.

"Come, come," remonstrated Marchmont, "we must be brave, we must be
composed. Tell Dr. Thorndyke your story, and let us hear what he thinks
of it."

He leaned back in his chair, and looked at his client with that air of
patient fortitude that comes to us all so easily when we contemplate the
misfortunes of other people.

"You must help us, sir," exclaimed Loewe, starting up again--"you must,
indeed, or I shall go mad. But I shall tell you what has happened, and
then you must act at once. Spare no effort and no expense. Money is no
object--at least, not in reason," he added, with native caution. He sat
down once more, and in perfect English, though with a slight German
accent, proceeded volubly: "My brother Isaac is probably known to you by
name."

Thorndyke nodded.

"He is a great collector, and to some extent a dealer--that is to say,
he makes his hobby a profitable hobby."

"What does he collect?" asked Thorndyke.

"Everything," replied our visitor, flinging his hands apart with a
comprehensive gesture--"everything that is precious and
beautiful--pictures, ivories, jewels, watches, objects of art and
_vertu_--everything. He is a Jew, and he has that passion for things
that are rich and costly that has distinguished our race from the time
of my namesake Solomon onwards. His house in Howard Street, Piccadilly,
is at once a museum and an art gallery. The rooms are filled with cases
of gems, of antique jewellery, of coins and historic relics--some of
priceless value--and the walls are covered with paintings, every one of
which is a masterpiece. There is a fine collection of ancient weapons
and armour, both European and Oriental; rare books, manuscripts, papyri,
and valuable antiquities from Egypt, Assyria, Cyprus, and elsewhere. You
see, his taste is quite catholic, and his knowledge of rare and curious
things is probably greater than that of any other living man. He is
never mistaken. No forgery deceives him, and hence the great prices that
he obtains; for a work of art purchased from Isaac Loewe is a work
certified as genuine beyond all cavil."

He paused to mop his face with a silk handkerchief, and then, with the
same plaintive volubility, continued:

"My br