ank into a chair.

"I--I don't know what you mean?" he stammered thickly.

"But you will go?" inquired Mr. Jacobs. "In fact, I am sure you will."

Cur as he was, Heyton made a last stand; he threw up his head, swore a
vile oath and struck the table.

"I'm hanged if I do!" he said.

"You'll be hanged, if you don't, my lord!" said Mr. Jacobs. Then, after
a pause, he said, with a shrug of the shoulders, "I thought you'd have
been sensible, that you'd have taken my tip without forcing me into
particulars; but if you must have them--well, Lord Heyton, if you are
here to-morrow morning, I shall arrest you for the robbery of the jewels
and the attempted murder of Lord Sutcombe."

Heyton sprang to his feet; then sank back again with a hoarse attempt at
a laugh.

"You must be a fool!"

"Well, one of us is a fool, but it's not me, my lord," said Mr. Jacobs,
imperturbably. "I knew the truth ten minutes after I had examined the
dressing-room. You see, the burglar who understands his business works
in kid gloves; they leave no finger-prints. There were prints on the
door of the safe, inside, on the poker--oh, well, everywhere; because,
you see, when a man's engaged in this kind of work, he's naturally
nervous, his hands are sweaty. And these finger-prints were those of a
gentleman's hands. Do you want me to go on, Lord Heyton?"

Heyton could not speak; his tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of his
mouth; he felt as if his spine were giving way, as if all his strength
of mind and body were ebbing from him.

"It's--it's ridiculous!" he stammered.

"No, my lord, it's quite simple, quite elementary. There were the
finger-prints, on the safe, on the walls, on the poker. I could read
them quite easily with a magnifying glass; and they never lie. 'Pon my
word, Lord Heyton!" he broke off musingly, his mouth twisting into a
smile, "I'm inclined to think they're the only things in this world one
can rely on. Now, you'll see why I upset the ink over your hand." He
took the two sheets of paper from his pocket and laid them on the table;
and beside them he placed a silver print of the finger-prints in the
room.

Heyton stared at them as if they were live things that could sting him.

"Another thing, my lord," said Mr. Jacobs. "I was in the dressing-room
just after the Marquess recovered consciousness, and heard him charge
you with the robbery. The evidence is quite conclusive. But there is, of
course, what we call collateral pro