y her bedside, close to her pillows,
from the moment she entered her rooms yesterday. She swore that it ought
to have been full of her jewels--in cases. When she had opened it--just
before this--it was empty. Of course, she demanded the instant presence
of the police. Also, she insisted that I should at once, that minute,
lock every door in the hotel, and arrest every person in it until their
effects and themselves could be rigorously searched and examined.
Ridiculous!"

"As you doubtless said," remarked Fullaway.

"No--I said nothing. Instead I telephoned for police assistance. These
two officers came. And," concluded the manager, with a sympathetic glance
at the detectives, "since they came Mademoiselle has done nothing but
insist on arresting every soul within these walls--she seems to think
there's a universal conspiracy against her."

"Exactly," said Fullaway. "It is precisely what she would think--under
the circumstances. Now let us see this chambermaid."

The manager opened the door of the bedroom, and called in a pretty,
somewhat shy, Scotch damsel, who betrayed a becoming confusion at the
sight of so many strangers. But she gave a plain and straightforward
account of her relations with Mademoiselle since the arrival of
yesterday. She had been in almost constant attendance on Mademoiselle
ever since her election to the post of temporary maid--had never left her
save at meal-times. The little chest had stood at Mademoiselle's bed-head
always--she had never seen it moved, or opened. There was a door leading
into the bedroom from the corridor. Mademoiselle had never left the suite
of rooms since her arrival. She had talked that morning of going for a
drive, but rain had begun to fall, and she had stayed in. Mademoiselle
had seemed utterly horrified when she discovered her loss. For a moment
she had sunk on her bed as if she were going to faint; then she had
rushed out into the corridor, just as she was, screaming for the manager
and the police.

When the pretty chambermaid had retired, Fullaway took up the box from
which the missing property was believed to have been abstracted. He
examined it with seeming indifference, yet he announced its particulars
and specifications with business-like accuracy.

"Well--this chest, cabinet, or box," he observed carelessly. "Let us look
at it. Here, gentlemen, we have a piece of well-made work. It is--yes,
eighteen inches square all ways. It is made of--yes, rosewood. Its