ing down to the gate,
bought a paper. The late news was very brief.

BRITISH MUSEUM MYSTERY

"An incredibly mysterious burglary was carried out last night at
the British Museum. By some means at present unexplained the Head
of Caesar has been removed from its pedestal and stolen, and the
world-famous Hamilton Vase (valued at L30,000) is also missing. The
burglar has left no trace behind him, but as we go to press the
police report an important clue."

Sheard returned to the house.

Seated in his study with the newspaper and Severac Bablon's letter
before him, he strove to arrange his ideas in order, to settle upon a
plan of action--to understand.

That the "important clue" would lead to the apprehension of the real
culprit he did not believe for a moment. Severac Bablon, unless Sheard
were greatly mistaken, stood beyond the reach of the police measures.
But what was the meaning of this crass misuse of his mysterious power?
How could it be reconciled with his assurances of the previous night?
Finally, what was the meaning of his letter?

He wished him to interview Sir Leopold Jesson, for some obscure reason.
So much was evident. But by what right did he impose that task upon him?
Sheard was nonplussed, and had all but decided not to go, when the
closing lines of the letter again caught his eye. "Although Brugsch's
book is elementary, there is something more behind it----"

A sudden idea came into his head, an unpleasant idea, and with it, a
memory.

His visitor of the night before had brought a mysterious bag (which
Sheard first had observed in his hand as they fled from the Museum) into
the house with him. It was evidently heavy; but to questions regarding
it he had shaken his head, smilingly replying that he would know in good
time why it called for such special attention. He remembered, too, that
the midnight caller carried it when he departed, for he had rested it
upon the gravel path whilst bidding him good-night.

Frowning uneasily, he stepped to the bookcase.

It was a very deep one, occupying a recess. With nervous haste he
removed "Egypt Under the Pharaohs," and his painful suspicion became a
certainty.

Why, he had asked himself, should he run about London at the behest of
Severac Bablon? And here was the answer.

Placed between the books and the wall at the back, and seeming to frown
upon him through the gap, was the stolen Head of Caesar!

Sheard hastily rep