ted it into its place.

"Then there will be pressure--enormous pressure, brought to bear to
recover it?"

"Oh-o-oh!" Buller drew out the syllable with unctuous relish. "They'll
rip the town inside out. They'll do worse. There'll be a string of
detectives across the country--yes, and at intervals to China--so tight
you couldn't step from Kalamazoo to Oshkosh without running into one.
The thing is too big to be covered. The chap who took it will play a
lone game; and to do that--Lord knows there aren't many who could--to do
that he'd have to be a--a--"

"Farrell Wand?" Flora flung it out as a challenge among these prosaic
people; but the effect of it was even sharper than she had expected. She
fancied she saw them all start; that Harry squared himself, that Kerr
met it as if he swallowed it with almost a facial grimace; that Judge
Buller blinked it hard in the face--the most bothered of the lot. He
came at it first in words.

"Farrell Wand?" He felt it over, as if, like a doubtful coin, it might
have rung false. "Now, what did I know of Farrell Wand?"

"Farrell Wand?" Kerr took it up rapidly. "Why, he was the great Johnnie
who went through the Scotland Yard men at Perth in '94, and got off.
Don't you remember? He took a great assortment of things under the most
peculiar circumstances--took the Tilton emeralds off Lady Tilton's neck
at St. James'."

"Why, Harry, you--" Flora began. "You told us that," was what she had
meant to say, but Harry stopped her. Stopped her just with a look, with
a nod; but it was as if he had shaken his head at her. His tawny lashes,
half drooped over watching eyes, gave him more than ever the look of a
great, still cat; a domestic, good-humored cat, but in sight of
legitimate prey. Her eyes went back to Kerr with a sense of
bewilderment. His voice was still going on, expansively, brilliantly,
juggling his subject.

"He knew them all, the big-wigs up in Parliament, the big-wigs on
'Change, the little duchesses in Mayfair, and they all liked him, asked
him, dined him, and--great Scott, they paid! Paid in hereditary jewels,
or the shock to their decency when the thing came out--but, poor devil,
so did he!"

And through it all Buller gloomed unsmiling, with out-thrust underlip.

"No, no," he said slowly, "that's not my connection with Farrell Wand.
What happened afterward? What did they do with him?"

Kerr was silent, and Flora thought his face seemed suddenly at its
sharpest.

It was