he super he sees a
note on the chair where the blighter had been sitting, and when he
opened it, there it was in black and white, something like this:

"'The list of presents that have been sent for the wedding to-morrow
of Sir Horace Wyvern's eldest daughter make interesting reading,
particularly that part which describes the jewels sent--no doubt as a
tribute to her father's position as the greatest brain specialist in the
world--from the Austrian Court and the Continental principalities. The
care of such gems is too great a responsibility for the bride. I
propose, therefore, to relieve her of it to-night, and to send you the
customary souvenir of the event to-morrow morning. Yours faithfully,

"'The Man Who Calls Himself Hamilton Cleek.

"That's how I know, dash you! Superintendent sent me out after him, hot
foot; and after a bit I picked him up in the Strand, toddling along with
that French hussy as cool as you please. But, blow him! he must have
eyes all round his head, for he saw me just as soon as I saw him, and he
and Frenchy separated like a shot. She hopped into a taxi and flew off
in one direction; he dived into a crowd and bolted in another, and
before you could say Jack Robinson he was doubling and twisting, jumping
into cabs and jumping out again--all to gain time, of course, for the
woman to do what he'd put her up to doing--and leading me the devil's
own chase through the devil's own tangle till he was ready to bunk for
the Embankment. And you let him go, you blooming footler! Had him and
let him go, and chucked away a third of L200 for the price of half a
quid!"

And long after Smathers and Petrie had left him, and the wondering crowd
had dispersed, and point duty at "Dead Man's Corner" was just point duty
again and nothing more, P.C. Collins stood there, chewing the cud of
bitter reflection over those words, and trying to reckon up just how
many pounds and how much glory had been lost to him.

II

"But, damme, sir, the thing's an outrage! I don't mince my words, Mr.
Narkom--I say plump and plain the thing's an outrage, a disgrace to the
police, an indignity upon the community at large; and for Scotland Yard
to permit itself to be defied, bamboozled, mocked at in this appalling
fashion by a paltry burglar--"

"Uncle, dear, pray don't excite yourself in this manner. I am quite sure
that if Mr. Narkom could prevent the things--"

"Hold your tongue, Ailsa--I will not be interfered with! It