ple. You, of course, saw that everyone in the street was an
accomplice. They were all engaged for the evening."

"I guessed as much."

"Then, when the row broke out, I had a little moist red paint in the palm
of my hand. I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my hand to my face, and
became a piteous spectacle. It is an old trick."

"That also I could fathom."

"Then they carried me in. She was bound to have me in. What else could she
do? And into her sitting room, which was the very room which I suspected.
It lay between that and her bedroom, and I was determined to see which.
They laid me on a couch, I motioned for air, they were compelled to open
the window, and you had your chance."

"How did that help you?"

"It was all-important. When a woman thinks that her house is on fire, her
instinct is at once to rush to the thing which she values most. It is a
perfectly overpowering impulse, and I have more than once taken advantage
of it. In the case of the Darlington Substitution Scandal it was of use to
me, and also in the Arnsworth Castle business. A married woman grabs at
her baby--an unmarried one reaches for her jewel box. Now it was clear to
me that our lady of to-day had nothing in the house more precious to her
than what we are in quest of. She would rush to secure it. The alarm of
fire was admirably done. The smoke and shouting were enough to shake
nerves of steel. She responded beautifully. The photograph is in a recess
behind a sliding panel just above the right bell-pull. She was there in an
instant, and I caught a glimpse of it as she drew it out. When I cried out
that it was a false alarm, she replaced it, glanced at the rocket, rushed
from the room, and I have not seen her since. I rose, and, making my
excuses, escaped from the house. I hesitated whether to attempt to secure
the photograph at once; but the coachman had come in, and as he was
watching me narrowly, it seemed safer to wait. A little over-precipitance
may ruin all."

"And now?" I asked.

"Our quest is practically finished. I shall call with the king to-morrow,
and with you, if you care to come with us. We will be shown into the
sitting room to wait for the lady, but it is probable that when she comes
she may find neither us nor the photograph. It might be a satisfaction to
his majesty to regain it with his own hands."

"And when will you call?"

"At eight in the morning. She will not be up, so that we shall have a
clear field. Besides,