rvice to the
community at large. He is not exactly a philanthropist, for he is well
rewarded for his labours both by the police and his clients. Suppose Mr.
Merritt here had done some wrong."

"A great effort of imagination," Littimer murmured, gently.

"Had done something wrong, and an enemy or quondam friend wants to 'put
him away.' I believe that is the correct expression. In that case he does
not go to the police himself, because he is usually of a modest and
retiring disposition. No, he usually puts down a few particulars in the
way of a letter and sends it to Reuben Taylor under cover at a certain
address. Is not that quite correct, Mr. Merritt?"

"Right," Merritt said, hoarsely. "Some day we shall find out who Taylor
is, and--"

"Never mind that. Do you know that the night before your friend Mr.
Henson left the Castle he placed in the post-bag a letter addressed to
Mr. Reuben Taylor? In view of what I read recently in the paper alluded
to the name struck me as strange. Now, Mr. Merritt, is it possible that
letter had anything to do with you?"

Merritt did not appear to hear the question. His eyes were fixed on
space; there was a sanguine clenching of his fists as if they had been
about the throat of a foe.

"If I had him here," he murmured. "If I only had him here! He's given me
away. After all that I have done for him he's given me away."

His listeners said nothing; they fully appreciated the situation.
Merritt's presence at the Castle was both dangerous and hazardous
for Henson.

"If you went away to-day you might be safe?" Chris suggested.

"Aye, I might," Merritt said, with a cunning grin in his eyes. "If I had
a hundred pounds."

Chris glanced significantly at Littimer, who nodded and took up
the parable.

"You shall have the money," he said. "And you shall go as soon as you
have answered Miss Lee's questions."

Merritt proclaimed himself eager to say anything. But Merritt's
information proved to be a great deal less than she had anticipated.

"I stole that picture," Merritt confessed. "I was brought down here on
purpose. Henson sent to London and said he had a job for me. It was to
get the picture from Dr. Bell. I didn't ask any questions, but set to
work at once."

"Did you know what the picture was?" Chris asked.

"Bless you, yes; it was a Rembrandt engraving. Why, it was I who in the
first place stole the first Rembrandt from his lordship yonder, in
Amsterdam. I got into his lordship