eness. She spoke of him always as "that
odious man, Medhurst." Could she have guessed, what none of the
other servants knew, that the man was a spy in search of the
Colonel? I was inclined to believe it. And then it dawned upon me
that Cesarine had known all about the diamonds and their story; that
it was Cesarine who took us to see Schloss Lebenstein; that it was
Cesarine who posted the letter to Lord Craig-Ellachie! If Cesarine
was in league with Colonel Clay, as I was half inclined to surmise,
what more natural than her obvious dislike to the detective who was
there to catch her principal? What more simple for her than to warn
her fellow-conspirator of the danger that awaited him if he
approached this man Medhurst?

However, I was too much frightened by the episode of the cheque to
say anything of my nascent suspicions to Charles. I waited rather
to see how events would shape themselves.

After a while Medhurst's vigilance grew positively annoying. More
than once he came to Charles with reports and shorthand notes
distinctly distasteful to my excellent brother-in-law. "The fellow
is getting to know too much about us," Charles said to me one day.
"Why, Sey, he spies out everything. Would you believe it, when I had
that confidential interview with Brookfield the other day, about the
new issue of Golcondas, the man was under the easy-chair, though I
searched the room beforehand to make sure he wasn't there; and he
came to me afterwards with full notes of the conversation, to assure
me he thought Brookfield--whom I've known for ten years--was too
tall by half an inch to be one of Colonel Clay's impersonations."

"Oh, but, Sir Charles," Medhurst cried, emerging suddenly from the
bookcase, "you must never look upon _any one_ as above suspicion
merely because you've known him for ten years or thereabouts.
Colonel Clay may have approached you at various times under many
disguises. He may have built up this thing gradually. Besides, as to
my knowing too much, why, of course, a detective always learns many
things about his employer's family which he is not supposed to know;
but professional honour and professional etiquette, as with doctors
and lawyers, compel him to lock them up as absolute secrets in his
own bosom. You need never be afraid I will divulge one jot of them.
If I did, my occupation would be gone, and my reputation shattered."

Charles looked at him, appalled. "Do you dare to say," he burst out,
"you've been