TALES AND SKETCHES.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 7506, 13 September 1902, Page 1

TALES AND SKETCHES.

— ♦— : HIS MAJESTY'S PEACOCK, ■ BBlNfl- TEE TRUE HISTORY (Recorded by Colonel Sir; Nigel Lacaita, C.8., sometime of Scotland Yard, and Edited by PATRICK HOME) OF EOT TSE KBTCr "WAS SAVBD FBOM A GEEAT FSZUL. (By W. A. MACKENZIE.) [Arx. Rights Rbsbrvbd.] CHAPTER VI. A STAB ET THB BACK. * 'My mail was shaving me up. * He Was doing his best to glide as smoothly as possible over that tender little bit in front Of. my right ear, where the scar left by an old sabre-cut renders the work of shaving at task demanding the utmost skill. ' I jumped • out of my chair with a yell and a wild grab for a Bponge. . I know it was undignified— l know also thafc no man is a hero to his valet— but some little exhibition of temper was^l conceive, not altogether unwarranted under the circumstances. • I gather abo/ from Simmons's subsequent desire to leave^my service, that I made use of rather strong language, as ; well as a threat of bodily chastisement. • Btit the beggar had cut me. I was Weeding like a— Jike a British officer. Of course he had an excuse, and I admit the excuse was a good one. That jangling hell, pealing so suddenly, so unexpectedly, so vehemently, would have upset anybody's nerves. I- was stanching the wound as best I could, and Simmons was standing trembling in a coiner, when a tap sounded on the door. ' • " See what it is, you fool," I cried. Simmons shivered towards the door like a jelly. /'." There's a policeman downstairs, sir." "He comes in the nick of time," I interrupted. "You bloodthirsty ruffian." 4, He wishes to see you, sir." I was so flustered by Simmons's awkwardBess that, without thanking what I was saying, I muttered " Show him up, show him up." i "Hadn't he better, wait, 'sir," said Simmons: "until you are " " Show— him— up." I had just finished applying a piece— it was a large piece, too — of flesh-coloured diachylon plaster y to my gaping wound, when the door opened and with reverberating tread a constable entered, -helmet in hand. - • . ■ ■ "I have been .vent, sir, to ask you to go at once to the house of Mr Edmund Kent, 25, -the Tenacs, Kennington." "What's wrong?" "Mr Kent is believed to be dying, aa, and he wants to see you. 'He was attacked last night, and stabbed over the heart." What Von earth did V this mean?. Could this. attack on Kent have anything to* do wi^h the Roper business? Events were beginning to happen fast and furious; mystery a©d cohfnrioh' worse confounded wees making my life a more exciting one than. I'caredVit'should be. HoWevei-j I would hurry to Kent's side and hear what he had'to .&_(-. . Belbre I 'l«^St. J«we^s &SW*: I teKr jpfoned to|i^ o*n^ in the Yard, ordering WiUin^aSe to join me at Kent's house as •don as his came in. I soon arrived at The Terrace, a quiet ooUeottoa of oktonshioned and comfortableloo_t_g> hoosee, mostly villas, now the only renuunt of what waa once a roy^ manor existing from Anglo-Saxon to Stuart tame*. I was received by the divisional polios an-geon, who K ushering me into a waitingzoom off the hall, gave me to understand that «oy excitement caused by my visit mk(bk taaoLt J& a serious oolkpee on tho ptnof Mt patient. " lbs wwuftd," said he, "is a terrible one. Bis assailant struck deep into the right subatarian triangle} and it is a marvel how don <fcun»ae was not done to the important Wood jamam and nerves lying there. Mr Kent basket a great amount of blood; be ia indeed ▼cry, very .weak.. He nearly went oot at fpar in ibe morning, but I injected a, salt solution and kept him going." " Haa his deposition, been taken?" '.'Yes. I got a magistrate here about ■he o'clock, when Mr Kent had* become capable of speech. I can tell you all he. said, bot that can keep until after you have seen him." . My interview witih Kent was unfortunately a short one. His faoe was quite bloodless, and, as he lay there, swathed in bandages and scarcely breathing, I had some diffloulty in recognising the great Bond Street jewel merchant. With a motion of .his eyes he signified that he reoognfaed me ; and with his free aim he pointed feebly to a chair by his mda. "Wdl, Kent," I said, "this is a- bad business. I needn't say to you how profoundly I sympathise. Now, you mustn't speak move than. is. absolutely necessary. I ahaU learn from the doctor presently—he has promised to toll me— what is in your deposition, so don't trouble saying a word about that. : But- as you have sent for me, I suppose you have something speoial yoa want me to hear." I saw he was about to speak, so I bent *iy ear down close beside him. "It's very good of you," he whispered, "to have come. I wanted you to know from myeeSf who my murderer is. You know hkn." I raised ray head for a moment, and tooi;---ed at the dying .man questioning^, as if to aak ham how I oould possibly know the assassin. Kent nodded his head, two or three times as if to assure me that he waa right. I bent down again. "You've not forgotten the Golden Peaoock?" "No." " You saw the man who came for it?" "Yes." " You could swear to him?" "Most assuredly. His was not a face one oould forget in a hurry." " He was the man j I am sure of it." "You saw- him distinctly?" " Not very. Bufc be spoke, and I saw hia The dootor moved forward sharply. "Well?" I said, looking up at him hurriedly, and turning away from Kent. "I hope," said the doctor, "he has said all he wanted' to say, for he will speak no more." . . I turned to look at the poor victim ol the assassin's knife ; he was dead. This was appallingly sudden. As the doctor and I left the room we were met by Mra Kent, wad we had the painful task of telling her, as gently as we could, that her husband had just breathed his last. While we were doing our best to console her a little, a servant entered to tell me that Willingale had arrived. Handing over Mrs Kent to the care of a daughter, the doctor gave myself and Willingale a hurried summary of the statement jnade by Kent in his deposition. About eleven o'clock on the previous nieht— it might have been about half-past eleven— Kent left hia house for a short walk and a last cigar before retiring. It was his general custom to do this when

thevweather was fine. - Tempted by the fine moonlight he took a longer walk than usual. It was about half-past twelve when he was returning by Kennington Oval towards. Camberwell New Road, out of which the Terrace opens. The road was wellnigh deserted. The policeman on point duty at the. Oval station knew him well, and- gave him good night. Just as he was turning into the Terrace he was met- by a man coming from tbe direction of Camberwell. He recognised this man and stopped him. Kent said to him, "I want to speak to you." The man stopped and said, " Vmat is it?" Kent replied, " What have you done with Henry Roper?" The man gave no answer, but attempted* to get away, and to cross the street and* make for Brixton Road. Kent sprang after. him and caught him by the left arm, saying, "You shall not escape. I intend to hold you until we meet a policeman." The next thing Kent knew was that the man had drawn a knife. Kent attempted to get hold of it, but without avail. He was stabbed sailant as a man albout sft lQin in height, with a black moustache and! 'with eyes of a pale blue. This man, ' he . declared, he had seen on two previous occasions, although on the first occasion the mail's hair and moustache were .white. > He. specified the occasions when be had* seen him, and he' said also that Colonel Lacaita knew him: First, because he (the colonel) 'had seen -him in the Bond Street shop; and, second, because, he (Kent) had seen him (his assailant) walking with Colonel Lacaita along Pall Mall last evening, although at that time he did not fully recognise him. Light began to dawn upon me. I knew now now it was that I thought von Krenzberg's features familiar. There could be no two doubts about it in my mmd — the man I had seen in Kent and Rackstraw's shop and von Kreuzberg were one and the same person. ' The first idea- that leaped into my mind was that, if he had kept his word, von Kreuzberg had left Viotoria that morning ; and now he would either be arriving at Newhaven or. leaving it- by Channel steamer ; I expected ihe would; return by I the route he had taken coming. The passage takes about four houro, so I reckoned there was yet plenty of time left in whioh to wire to the authorities at Dieppe, The doctor was naturally' inquisitive to | learn what I knew of the supposed murderer, but I did not think it wise to enlighten him. "Come," I said to Willingale, "lefs get back to Scotland Yard." ■■-.•"* I took Willingale with me in my cab, and, as we, went, ran over as quickly and as fully as possible all my connection with I von Krenxbecg. He knew already all that had passed tue year before at Kent and Rackstraw's; that was more or less com* mon property at the Yaxd by ite bearing on the diaappearanoe of Henry Roper. ■r When we arrived at the Yard I took him into my private room. "Nowj Willingale," I mdd t "I am going to let you know something more. Yester- . day, morning . wihen I found the piece of paper inside the tennis-ball I did, sot iet you see what ' Henry Roper had written Perhaps I was -wrong in what I did, but I did not then foresee the almost avalanahelike movement of events, "nor did. I think then what' a diabolical agency was. at work. This murder of Kent, howeyer, has put a new "complexion upon affairs'; it shows me that this man von __rau£berg, .or.de Mont-' croix. fear* <Escovery.V I helieve^-and when Su baairyXß&axy JRopesfe <romaj«nio*tk>n: I ye no4oubt *hat yen, also, will believethat a very grave 'disaster- may overtake this Empire. Ido not know how- ihe will bring it about.. But from the way in which for a whole year he has kept Roper - hidden, and irom the ruthless manner in which he has slaughtered poor Kent, I have small doubt -that he will bring about a disaster— and that, perhaps, before we know how to prevent it." . * " ■ Willingale, grave before,, looked graver now. I produced the letter that Henry Roper had written z and handing it Willingale. asked him to read it aloud. This is what he read:— "To the ohe who finds this letter.— Please forward this at onoe to (Mrs Henry Roper, 75, Clarendon Villas, Hornsey, N. "I am a prisoner in the oountry somewhere near London, and I have been kept here sinoe June last by a madman, who says he is King of lEngland. I am sure he is mad, for he swears that he ia going to kill the King. For God's sake see the police. TOie finder of this will be able to tell you where I am^-Henry Roper."

CHAPTER VII. VOL. 11. OS* BEDOAtrNTLKT. By the time Willingale aad I had finished our consultation, Big Ben was booming the quarter after* twelve. A messenger from the Foreign. Office -waa announced to see me, so I dismissed Willingale to communicate with the French authorities, a matter, I oonfess, we had. forgotten to attend to/ so excited were we over the wider issues concerned in the oase. . After seeing the telegrams off, Willingale turned his attention to arranging what we called the "exhibits" in the Roper case— namely, the tennis-balls^ the letter, the two hairs, the little bundle of haii-s, and the volume of Redgauntlet. He had laid the book on the mantelshelf of his room when he had oome in that morning, and now it was not there. Inspector Garment sfts in the same room as Willingale. "Have you seen anything?" he asked Casement, "of a book I pnt'down here this morning when I came in?" "Oh, Glaisher took it shortly after you left." , " " What did he want with itf "I don't "know." " Like his confounded cheek. Because he runs this new cipher business the Colonel thinks so much of, he fancies himself boss of the whole dhow." * And with that, Willingale stepped along the corridor to give a piece of his mind to Glaisher about Interfering with things that did not concern him. Glaisher*s door was locked and bolted, bnt a card was pinned on to one of the Sanells, bearing the words " This is my busy ay. Don't worry." Glaisher, I may tell you, is a protege of mine. I oannot say that as a detective he is what I should call' a bright and a Bhining light; but in the matter of ciphers — that is to say, in the unravelling of them— he is facile prinoepe. Now, the ordinary detective, who is generally a superior sort of policeman, is not, as a rule, an adept at intellectual gymnastics. Set him down to a common murder case, or a casual robbery, with a few little bits of circumstantial evidence to help him, and the chanoes are that he will find you your criminal and complete your evidence. But throw a stumbling block in hia way — a simple cipher of the noughts and crosses kind, or of the transposed alphabet kind, and you will put him black in his work for a fortnight or three weeks. It will take him all that time to unravel a mystery which an. expert cipheri«t will solve between puffs of a cigarette. Thus, when Glaisher offered me .his services, I availed myself of them gladly, more especially as he was a varied linguist, and might 'be useful to me in political and diplomatic affairs. I confess he was rather fond of giving himself aire, but, to a good man, one can pardon much. Willingale hammered at his door for about five minutes, and at last Glaisher condescended to recognise his presence. The door opened, and before Willingale could get out one word, Glaisher had seized him by the arm and pulled him into the room.

H— —————— —————— BB—BB—— —————————————— — ' "Here," he cried, picking up the volumf of Redgauntlet from his table, "where die you get this, Willingale?" "What's your business? I know where you got it. You took it from the mantelshelf' in my room. First of all, you had no right to be in my room, and, secondly, you had no right to take the book, Mister Glaisher, even if you do fanoy yourself, aif" look down upon what I believe you call 'promoted sergeants.'" "Now, look here, Willingale," said Glaisher, in his very softest voice (and Glaisher.. who is really sj gentleman, can use some ex ceedingly soothing tones when he likes). " I never said anything of the sort ; and 1 wouldn't say it, even if I thought it. But, if you think I said you were a promoted sergeant, I— l apoloeise to myself for having I thought such a thing of me. See? Second-, ! ly, I apologise for having gone into your room at all. And, thirdly, I. do not, and will not, apologise for having taken .this book ; because," and he tapped the book with his forefinger, " because 'it haa helped me, to solve rather an interesting cipher, and because you will thank, me when you hoar what the solution: is." " Now, look here " — said Willingale. " Wait a minute," said Glaisher. " You're not a reading man. You prefer a musichall' and a pipe. So, when I find ia copy oi the second volume of the Temple edition of Redgauntlet on the mantelshelf in your room, it does not noed detective powws of a superhuman order to tell me that it is a document in some case. Now, Willingale, dear"— Glaisher is Irish, you know, and lie can blarney with the best — " where did you get this book?" • " Well," said Willingale, grumpily enough, " I f oitod it in an unoccupied house in Ohenies." : "Where's that?". "It's a little village on the extension Imefrom Baker Street to Aylesbury." "Urn," said Glaisher. "Funny. I suppose you don't know of any king who's -got a house in Kennington?" AH that I had told Willingale flashed through his mind now ; but I flatter myself that I can pick my subordinates. WiHin-. gale's face waa a study in wood. " No, Glafisher, I can't say that I do." "Well, there is then," said Glaisher, %nd his name ia Charles. Or if there isn't, there will be at seven o'clock on Monday morning." " What do you mean?" fi«id Willingale. "jjobk hero," said Glaisher. "Every morning I have all the London . papers that publish agony columns. I cut out all tha cipher messages, gum them on to a sheet of paper and amuse myself by pulling them to piece*— just as a sort of whet to my appetite. As a rule they take, me about thirtyrflve or forty-five minutes. But today, in the 'Times,' there appears one of these beastly book oiphers. Know ■. what ai book cipher is, Willingale?" . " Never heard of it," said Willingale, " I'll explain to you in three words. Suppose I want to camaniunioate with you secretly, without anybody else getting to know what I say. We take a 'book— say,. ,wo take Volume 11. of Redgauntlet in this Temple series. • I take my volume. I open" it at random, and I look down at the first page that meets my eye for the word .' be.' . The first I turn to here is 125; half-way down the page — to be precise, it is in tha flf teenth line from tbe top — I find ' be ' ; and it is the third word from the left-hand side. O&erefOTe^expiefcß *W's_ 125*46*.; J» ' y \ \ _ ..-„„. ; y ...J> v^,^c."iKS.-;, "YW^^y.^pito agreed ? Wilr' lingale. " In a similar manner one may write anything; and where the words do not occur inthe book, we may write them in confused order, and add a series of numbers indicative of their places in the sentence or sentences. . Where, however, we are "in * the habit of using two or more books for itihis purpose, it is always" necessary to indicate, lin some manner or other, which book is being used. "And, here, let me show you how it wa*| that this copy which I found- on your mantelshelf has helped me. Oast your eye on t3iis clipping from the ' Times.' After the explanation of book oiphers I have given you, you will see that the general arrangement of the numbers corresponds witih that of an ordinary book cipher. More than one book has been used on previous occasions — hence, tbe Tisane- of the book to be referted to is given at the end — Redgauntlet 11., Whioh means, of course, the second volume. "It ia all very well to say, 'There you, are, there's your book,' bu* if you. were ai reading man you would know that of this novel, as of all Soott's, there have been innumerable editions, from the original, one in three volumes, printed by Constable, ofi Edinburgh, down to this charming one. Which of the editions, then, am I to ransack? I might have to spend days at the British Museum until I found the right one. "I confess I was rather anityed, and mi my annoyance I' wandered into the corridor, entered your room without any premonition of what was drawing me there, and see on your mantelshelf a copy of the very book mentioned. "As a rule, I don't jump to conclusions; but it seemed to me that you must have gained possession of thia volume in connection with some case, and that very likely that case might be helped if you knew what was in this cipher. " You can tell me if I'm right. Anyway, I can! tell you that this vo 1 ™?® in the Temple edition was the one that I wanted. "Then," said Willingale,. "the age of miracles is not yet over." ' "No, sir, not by a long chalk. " Here is the cipher as it appeared in the 'Times': — „,...., ../» (71-73-74-17-67-27-29-47-12) 295.12.5 3.12. 1:1.8 8.30.1 3.4.5 301.5.1 278.24.4/9 11.8.4 346.15.2:19.2 3.6.4/ 238.7.8 238.1.8+2.7 31. 14.4+25.5 3.1.8 258.3.6 345.33.8 3.1.11 121. 8.8 83.36.11 50.25.3 339.5.3 252,16.1 339.5. 3 251.9.3 3.1.8 241.16.2 3.4.5 256.17.5 335. 16.2 285.3.2 8.6.4+3.6 292.16.3-S 256.17.5 295.30.7/8 39.6.3 297.22.5-UNED 252.16.1 295.33.6:9.6 326.18.5-R 263-1.6 262 22.4 343.15.6 346.32.9 285.3.5 256.17.5 339.8.8 276.23.7 10.34.3 276.23.7 136.5.4 3.4.5 3.1.8 166.22.4 3.4.5 125.15.4 258.3.6 3.1.8 329.2.6 124.23.6 3.4.5 125.1.7 242.9:9 306.2.7:27.1 (June word xock save belonging twenty arise enable render Ireland) Redgauntlet 11. "That's a funny -looking jumble," said Glaisher. "To the uninitiated it's nothing but a hotch-potch of figures signifying nothing. But with the help of our trusty Redgauntlet this is what we get. It took me just twenty minutes to figure out." Willingale took the sheet of paper from his hand and read: — " Charles, by the grace of God, King of Great Britain and Ireland, and the possessions thereto belonging. Whereas, within the next thxee days an opportunity shall arise to enable us to assume the crown of our ancestors, we hereby summon our faithful subjects to attend us, render homatrtand advise, as is their duty, at our house at Kennington, at seven of the morn in? of Monday next, the 21st day of June. Tho sign is a cross, the word rock. God save the King." Willingale read this over twice before ht said anything. Then he was pleased to smile on GlaisheT in a sickly fashion. " Yes," he admitted, " this is interesting — this is damned interesting." "It "will help you, then?" said Glaisher. "I 'don't know' that it -will altogether help me, but it certainly throws rather a curious light on the case I am working at.

3bme along to the Colonel, Glaisher. He must see this." On their way to may room Glaisher stopped for a moment to despatch a careful man to the "Times" advertisement office, to find out who it was that handed in the cipher advertisement. Glaisher was in his element. He scentsd mystery, and at the same time thought lie saw an opportunity of crowing over :hose who had formerly derided his " conundrums." Even with me he could not resist the temptation of explaining how he had made his translation. "Look," he said, "at this curious collocation of numbers and letters : 297.22.6— UNED. We turn to page 297, we find line 22, and we pick out word s—it5 — it is ' unattended.' It is simplicity itself to subtract UNED and we get the word wanted —'attend.' Where you find a collocation of five numbers cut off by a colon, as '3.l2.l:l.B'— this also is simple enough, and we find that it means that they are. two words taken from the same page— name-, ly, 'by the.' The reason why certain wokds are printed is that either they do not occur in the book at all, or it was too much trouble to hunt for them." Having, assured myself that Glaisher was right in his translation of the cipher— l went to the trouble of looking up some pf the words — I dismissed him. " Now, Willingale," I said, " what do you think of this?" * "Well, sir," he replied, "I have been trying to gather my scattered thoughts while Glaisher was talking, and the con-V clusion^l come to is this : there is a man, call him von Kreuzberg or de Montcroix,. who believes himself to be king of the country. He calls himself Charles, and so I should think he is, or he fancies be is, a descendant of the Stuarts. I think he is the in4n who kidnapped Roper, and last night murdered Kent; but why he kid happed Roper, and why he murdered Kent, .and why he has been in possession of some of the Emperor of Illyria's private notepaper, are things that pass my comprehension. Still, if this announcement, this proclamation, is to be taken as genuine, it hints that within the next three days—-; that is to-day, to-morrow t and Mondaysome opportunity -is going to arise 'to' enable us to assume the crown of our ancestors.' That means mischief — you know in what quarter, sir. "I believe the whole thing's the work i of a madman ; but the fact that Kent met' this man, and was murdered by him in Kennington, and that it is here stated that he has a home, in the same quarter, .warrants us, I. think, in trying to find that house and in keeping an especial watch on it at seven o'clock oii Monday mora&s- k "But you must find the house, firss Willingale." y ' > " Thait's the trouble, sir. Kennington is not a little village, and one can't go from; door to door asking if King Charles lives there." Keep a thing for seven years and you'll find some use for it, ie* a saying as worthless as it is frequently ÜBed. But it, is the exception that proves the rule. And now*. l remembered that every year on the anniversary of Charles I.'s death, some belated, Jacobites aire in the habit bf placing a wreath of flowers at the foot of his* statue ih Whitehall. Could it be possible, I thought, to find out if any of the inemher? of these Jaoobitish societies knew .anything of this niß-tv Pretender? 0f course, iXex- '■ tfisjjt^tbat*. this tw^tieth..l'c^^^3Sev*--/jjPJf*^^^ any lunawc $an always have his followitiig of cranks if (he has got $ new " ism " to preach: I mentioned the matter to Wijlingala, and he agreed with me that if there was time at our disposal it might be wise to make some inquiries among latter-day Jacobites. "Most of them," said Willingale, "are men in good society. If I might venture a suggestion, sir, I should say that Lady Dolly Lacaita, with - her knowledge of social doing, might help you to the names of some of them." i "Time will at least permit of my using the telephone." I rang up: my wife. •" Of course," she said, " I know three or | four. There's Lancelot Seymour in Jermyn j Street, and there's Richard- Maxwell and. Allan Latimer, who chum together in Clarges Street. These are all lean remember at present Why ;do you want to know 2" " I can't stop," I said,, "to explain just : now. I'll tell you when Lget home." "When may I expect you?" she asked. " You remember I'm lunching with the Trent's at Prince'B. Willi you pick me up I there ait three? You. haven't forgotten surely that I did not see you this morning." "I had to be out rather early on sad business, Kent— the jeweller, you know — was stabbed last night and died this morning." 'Kent!" she cried. "Who did it?" , But time was flying, and I was ung&Uant enough for the first time in my life to break off conversation with , a pretty womain — even over a telephone. I seized my hat. "WeU, sir?" said Willingale. I "This is something I must do myself,' Willingale. I shall be back in half an hour or so, and I hope to be able to bring some helpful information.'' CHAPTER VHI. on_ of king Charles's courtiers. I took a cab to Jermyn Street. Seymour's man told me his master was engaged for the moment, but, if I would wait for a little, he had no doubt his master would see me. He showed me into a room which Seymour evidently used as a sort of study. An old oak bookcase stood in one corner, filled with heavy tomes on heraldry, armour, ancient weapons, and all manner of what somebody has irreverently - called "mediaeval truck." In the middle of the i'oom, facing the single window,_was an alaborate writing-table, littered with books, papers and invitations. I picked up one of the volumes from the table, not through curiosity, but quite mechanically, and glanced through it, not from any desire to read, but simply because my thoughts were whirling so busily that I felt the mere sight of print would help to still them for a little. As I was laying it down, my eye caught sight of a small vol- | ume, the appearance of which made my heart leap into my mouth. I seized it, and found to my astonishment that my surmise was correct — it was a copy of the second volume of Redgauntlet in the Temple series. I am not given to playing the detective in the houses of my friends and acquaint-' ances, but I may be "forgiven for what I did then. I deliberately looked over the confusion of his table, not altogether in the hope of finding something incriminating, but, at least, in the expectation of finding — what I did find, and that was a capy of that day's issue of the "Times.*' Of course, it was quite possible to find ibe conjunction of a copy of Redgauntlet and a copy of the " Times " on a hundred tables in England that day ; yet, when such a conjunction has been forced upon you under other and alarming circumstances, the discovery of them elsewhere leads one undoubtedly to jump to certain conclusions. • The copy of the " Times " was carefully folded and placed under a paper-weight, but I did not hesitate to remove the bronze, and to look with all speed at the Agony vJolumn. I found more than I expected. I found absolute evidence that the cipher had been translated carefully. Tlie decipherer, whoever he was — andl could not see how it

could be any other than Seymour— had run | his pen through each collocation of figures i as he had discovered the corresponding word 'in the book; so that, the task being completed, the advertisement was simply a mass of pen-strokes. And I discovered more. Above the advertisement was inserted a cross in red ink, together with the words, "I've mislaid my Redgauntlet. Let me hear what this is— G.E.8." And in the right-hand top , corner of the front page was scribbled, with faint indelible pencil, and in a most vile r fist, " Bruton, 215, Jermyn." I divined that this address had been written by the local news agent for the guidance of the boy who delivered the morning papers. I made a note of G. E. Bruton's address on my tablets. I folded the paper again, and replaced it beneath the bronze. I added another item to my discoveries. You may say, and with some justice — I am the first to admit it — that all these discoveries were made in too facile a manner, that Fate seemed to play into our hands, and that 1 went to a man's rooms, and incriminating evidence simply leaped at me. All this is quite true, but let me remind you that sometimes Truth does' take a leaf out of Fiction's book; and I assure you that when it does, members of the detective service are as thankful as they are astonished. But, to resume. The third discovery, and perhaps the most important as clinching the matter as fdr as Seymour was concerned, was that on his blotting-pad, away from the centre, which was rather crowded with blots, were distinctly traceable in reverse — " aye the King." The " aye " was almost indistinguishable, the "the" was more distinct, and the "King" (evidently the last word written) was as plain as could be. Seymour had written out his translation, and, coming to the end, blotted the last three words, the others having all dried while h© was deciphering. I tore off that corner of paper. As soon as I had done it, I thought to myself that Seymour would notice the mutilation of his blotting-pad, wouid very likely regard it as a warning, and would not attend the meeting at Kennington— nay, in all probability, would warn his brother Jacobites also. ; An expedient can always be found. I saw my way out the dilemma. ' A silver matchbox lay on the table.- I hastily placed, it below some papers. I tore into two the piece of blotting-paper I had filched, placed the fragment with the incriminating words in my pocket-book, and rolled the other piece into a spill. I he:jrd steps coming along the passage. It was the work of a moment to place a cigarette between my lips, to spring to the mantelshelf where there was a glimmer of light in the incandescent globe, to turn up the gas, and, when the door opened to admit Seymour, to be busily engaged in lighting my spill. . " Good morning, Colonel. Sorry to have kept you waiting." "Ah! Good morning, Seymour. I was just going to have a cigarette — haven't hold jfope*. since breakfast. Thought there would pa no harm in smoking here. I couldn't |find any matches,, so I've been making free "with your blotting-pad." " That's all right. ■ How is Lady, Dolly?" "Well, thank you, but a little fagged, as all women get towards the end of the season." " ' . . " Not only women^ .Colonel." " "What ! Ypu arest't complaining?" , yV"j4--<4t->^^ «ill"I iw*rthk want of '2* 'little fresh- air, a& everybcdy must* after this 'hot sp<3l«*\ .'■'; ' ' "T must tell you what brought me here this morning. My wife, who, if she doesn't know everybody, knows everything everybody does, told me I ought to come, to you. An old friend of mine living in the country — Major Kingscote— has taken up heraldry. He wrote me a long letter the other day asking me to find out something for him. Unfortunately, I've mislaid it. I daren't write and tell him that, for he's as fiery on his genealogies ' and things as retired generals are oh religion. My wife thought that you might be able to help me if you'll be so good." " Oh ! I'm sympathetic," laughed Seymour. "Heraldry has been a hobby of my own for the last ten years and—* fellow failing makes us wondrous kind." "Well, then, may I tell him that if he writes to you he may possibly receive some oil for the troubled 'waters?" ' "Why, certainly.' May I ask who your" friend is?" " Major Kingscote, Simon Kingscote, Laburnum Oottage, Chenijes." I really don't know why I should have dragged in this elaborate lie about Kingscote, but his name oame to my mind and I used it. " Ohenies !" ejaculated Seymour." That's near Chesham, isn't it?" , "I believe so." • "Now, that's curious; for I am going down to Oheshaon this afternoon to stop over Sunday with the Berkleys. I'm tak--ing my cycle with me, so I suppose there'll be no harm if I drop in on your friend t]o-morrow afternoon." " Oh, none whatever. . I'm sure he'd be delighted." "You see, one can explain things so much better by talking and genealogical enthusiasts do rather run to long letters." "Lord, Lord!" I thought to myself "how I have put my foot in it. However, I can get Kingscote away from Chenieg on some pretext or other." . And so, with many professions of thanks and wishes for a pleasant Sunday in the green country I bowed myself out. I walked along to the post office in Regent Street and promptly despatched the following telegram to Wingscote : " Come to town at once. To-morrow morning at latest. Extremely urgent. Lacaita." After my discoveries in Seymour's study, it will be apparent to the meanest intelligence that I could not have asked him any questions with regard to present-day Jacobite societies. I was compelled to fall 'back upon Maxwell and Latimer — and the chance of finding them in at that hour. It was just on half -past, one as I turned into Clarges Street. Mr Maxwell was at home. He was at breakfast. When I was shown in he rose^up in great haste from his devilled kidneys, and cried with mock contrition — nice boy, Maxwell — "We're fairly caught, ' Colonel. Isn't this a pretty hour for breakfast?" "Gad!" I cried, "I wish I could join you." "Nothing's easier," said Latimer. "We'll have a knife and fork for you in a twinkling." • "That's not what I meant," said I. "1 was thinking how good it would "Be to be young again ; to paint the town red all night, and to be able to eat devilled things at half-past one of a hot summer afternoon." " Well, then," said Maxwell, " won't you have a drink, sir.?" " Well, then, with plenty of ice " "We've tons of it." "A whisky and Apollonaris would not be amiss." ' " Hurry no man's cattle " is an excellent dictum, and I think it is especially good when I can apply it to myself. So we had a little chit-chat about people and nobodies and things in general. And then I said:— " But I must tell you what brings me here this morning. An old friend of mine in the country" (Oh ! Simon, Simon, what lies I tell in your name) "is writing a his-. ' Tory of the Stuart dynaety, and he wants to bring his book down to the present day by means qf a chapter on all the Pretenders, and so. on. My wife tells me that you youngsters belong to some sort of society,

for bringing back the descendant of the 6tuarts." "Well, hardly that, Colonel. That would be a bit too steep in these days of democracy and the proletariat. You can hardily expect aßattersea crowd, full of the strong milk of John Burns, to swallow Divine Right and the rest of it. No, Colonel, our society is simply not. to' be too generous to ourselves — a tiny congregation of sentimentalists, whd have no liking to see fine old institutions die. The Stuarts were an institution— if you like, a bad one — but they were kings, and they played the game. We have a certain amount of reverence—sentimental reverence— for their descendants, and- we are neither afraid nor ashamed to show it. ; Yearly we lay a wreath of remembrance at the feet of the martyred king, and there our homage to an expiring house practically ends." , ■ ■ .„■,-■*' " Oh ! that's quite a simple thing, I xc- " Besides, you must remember," put in Latimer, "that most of us who belong 'U> the ranks of the Legitimist.. Club are descendants pi men who gave their lives tor the Stuart cause, of women themselves of their jewels to .-fill the Stuart coffers in time of need, besides giving theirhusbands and their sons to buttress a crumbling throne." ■ * . "But,'' I said,: " I thought there was some sort of society whose aims were much higher than those of your dub-" y "You're not here officially, are you, Colonel?" asked Maxwell. "I! .Good 1 Lord, my boy, do you take me for a policeman?" and I laughed at the "No, of course not/ said Maxwell. "Only I believe— in fact, I know— that there is an extreme section which advocates the claims of some more or less reputable descendant of the Bonnie Prince Charlie and the Walkinshaw woman. I dare say your history, is rusty^Cplonel " "My dear boy, I fchow that much." "Of course, Charles Edward did marry Miss Walkinshaw— we all admit that— and there was a daughter of the marriage, and some say a son. Miss Walkinshaw was created Duchess of Albany, but she was not of Royal blood, so that the marriage, however binding, was merely a morganatic one. "The extreme section,, however, holds that the fair.Walkinflhaw's descendants who call themselves by the name of de Mont : croix — and the Lord knows where either the "de" or the "Montcroix" comes from —are the real claimants. •" You well remember, Colonel, that the Marquis de Montcroix headed" a conspiracy some years ago against her Royal Highness Maria Theresa of Este Modena, Princess Louis of Bavaria, and that he wag shortly afterwards cap- j tured and confined in a lunatic, asylum, where he died, and was survived by an only j son. . " Oh, I remember that," I said, " and, if I cared, . I could tell you something about de Montcroix too. I met him in India many yeaTs ago. He was _ nobody.- But you spoke of a son?" i " I know nothing of him," said Maxwell, "save what I have heard." ] "What have you heard?" " Only that he is a foolish visionary, and that he hopes— or at least he says he hopes — to get back to the English throne one day. ■Of course he's cracked." I'How did you hear that?" : ."Oh, if you want to know," said Latimer, "you'd .better ask .Lancelot^eymou?,ori if you can't find him, ;Bru•tonr"- ■■■■A^X.XX.'yiCy J&JhXXy-y : X'AXA'~-x r - :- "Are they—what — eh^-you call / extremists '?" .'./ • " . ! '. "' - " I don't know that they are extremists, but they certainly stick up. for the Montcroix fellow." ; "Now that's all very interesting,", said I. "I am .sure my friend Kingscote will be vastly obliged to you." With which and a few more pleasant phrases I took my leave and my way back to the office. Before Willingale I laid a piece of paper, on which were written two names and addresses. '• ,_^ "Put two men on to watch, Mr Seymour and Mr Bruton. One of them will, I think, be your guide to the mysterious house in Kennington on Monday morning." "You have been busy, sir," said Willingale. . " Busy?" I said. " Oh, dear me, no. I've been passing a very pleasant morning." Willingale wa9 leaving the room, but he turned and eyed me with rather a perturbed face. ; * • "If you will forgive me for saying it, sir, I think we are, or at least I am, pretty considerably to blame for having overlooked one simple expedient." "What's that?". I said. " We have never sent/ he rejoined with some gravity, "to the Hlyrian Embassy to find out what they know there of Qraf von . Kreuzberg." " Willingale," said I, " you're one fool, and I'm an excellent second." „.".' "Sir,", said he, "I am glad you said that" and not I." (To be continued.) . ,