d music-hall song writers to pour forth patriotic
lyrics; which had adorned the button-holes of sober citizens with
miniature Union Jacks. For him the question of the hour was: "Shall I
capture Severac Bablon?"

He reviewed, in the space of a few seconds, the whole bewildering case,
from the time when this incomprehensible man had robbed Park Lane to
scatter wealth broadcast upon the Embankment up to the present moment
when, it would appear, having acted as best man at a Society wedding, he
now was within the precincts of Buckingham Palace.

It was the boast of Severac Bablon, as Sheffield knew, that no door was
closed to him. Perhaps that boast was no idle one. Who was Severac
Bablon? Inspector Sheffield, who had asked himself that question many
months before, when he stood in the British Museum before the empty
pedestal which once had held the world-famed head of Caesar, asked it
again now. Alas! it was a question to which he had no answer.

The cab stopped in front of Buckingham Palace.

Sheffield paid the man and walked up to the gates. He was not unknown to
those who sat in high places, having been chosen to command the secret
bodyguard of Royalty during one protracted foreign tour. An unassuming
man, few of his acquaintances, perhaps, knew that he shared with the
Lord Mayor of London the privilege of demanding audience at any hour of
the day or night.

It was a privilege which hitherto he had never exercised. He exercised
it now.

Some five minutes later he found himself in an antechamber, and by the
murmur of voices which proceeded from that direction he knew a draped
curtain alone separated him from a hastily summoned conference. A smell
of cigar smoke pervaded the apartment.

Suddenly, he became quite painfully nervous. Was it intended that he
should hear so much? Short of pressing his fingers to his ears, he had
no alternative.

"We had all along desired that amicable relations be maintained in this
matter, Baron."

That was the Marquess of Evershed. Sheffield knew his voice well.

"It has not appeared so from your attitude, Marquess!"

Whom could that be? Probably Baron Hecht.

"Your intense patriotism, your admirable love of country, Baron, has led
you to misconstrue, as affronts, actions designed to promote our
friendly relations."

Only one man in England possessed the suave, polished delivery of the
last speaker--the Right Honourable Walter Belford.

"I have misconstrued nothing; my inst