tolen from my Streatham villa.
The same feeling came over me which I had had in that residence on the
night of my return. I was swimmy for a moment, and saw stars, and then
thought that a thick fog had broken out in Bermondsey. I recovered
myself by a mighty effort of will. Here was to be a battle of the wits.
Here was one item of my lost property within a hand's grasp of me. I
couldn't keep that hand from trembling as I took the clock from him.

"Don't shake it up like a bottle of medicine," said the old gentleman,
irritably; "it's a delicate piece of workmanship, and won't stand
bobbing up and down like that; it upsets the mechanism, and it isn't
easily set right."

"Is it in working order, then?" I inquired, with suppressed amazement.

"Yes, of course it is."

"Good gracious! is it though?" I said, nearly dropping it in my
surprise.

"It tells the days of the month, the dates of the month," he went on,
"the phases of the moon, the month of the year, the year of the century,
the variations in the weather; it chimes the quarters, halves, and
three-quarters; it plays a waltz after it strikes the hour; it acts as a
revolver--I mean as a repeater--and it is mounted in solid gold of 20
carat, almost pure gold. A timepiece fit for a prince, and belonged
originally to Louis Seize. What is it worth to you, money down--on the
nail--as you tradesmen say?"

"I shall want a little time to consider the matter."

"Take your own time, sir, only, for God's sake, look sharp," said the
old man irreverently, as he removed his hat and wiped his forehead with
a big, old-fashioned silk bandanna.

"A clock of this description cannot be reckoned up in a hurry," I said.
"I haven't examined the works yet."

"You'll find them perfect, wonderfully perfect. But don't breathe into
them if you can help it. It affects the waltz movement particularly."

[Illustration: "A TIMEPIECE FIT FOR A PRINCE."]

"Oh, does it, indeed?" I said, ironically.

I professed to be examining the works with the closest attention, but I
was only resolving on my plan of future action. I was playing with my
prey--an angler with his "catch," a cat with a mouse. This was the man
who had broken into Golden Birch Villa, and walked off with the pick of
the property. An ingenious burglar, who was an expert in clocks, and--I
smiled grimly at the joke--who had actually put the article into my own
hands again in perfect order. I could have imagined that it was a
dupli