ded again toward Mr. Woollett's
quarters. "Take that with the other circumstances," he added, "and I think
you'll agree it's worth while looking a little farther that way. Of course
some of the work--taking off the lock and so on--looks rather like a
regular burglar, but it's just possible that any one badly wanting the
cameo would like to hire a man who was up to the work."

"Yes, it's possible."

"Do you know anything of Hahn, the agent?" Plummer asked, a moment later.

"No, I don't. Have you found him yet?"

"I haven't yet, but I'm after him. I've found he was at Charing Cross a
day or two ago, booking a ticket for the Continent. That and his failing
to turn up to-day seem to make it worth while not to miss _him_ if we can
help it. He isn't the sort of man that lets a chance of drawing a bit of
money go for nothing."

They returned to the room. "Well," said Lord Stanway, "what's the result
of the consultation? We've been waiting here very patiently, while you two
clever men have been discussing the matter on the roof."

On the wall just beneath the trap-door a very dusty old tall hat hung on a
peg. This Hewitt took down and examined very closely, smearing his fingers
with the dust from the inside lining. "Is this one of your valuable and
crusted old antiques?" he asked, with a smile, of Mr. Claridge.

"That's only an old hat that I used to keep here for use in bad weather,"
Mr. Claridge said, with some surprise at the question. "I haven't touched
it for a year or more."

"Oh, then it couldn't have been left here by your last night's visitor,"
Hewitt replied, carelessly replacing it on the hook. "You left here at
eight last night, I think?"

"Eight exactly--or within a minute or two."

"Just so. I think I'll look at the room on the opposite side of the
landing, if you'll let me."

"Certainly, if you'd like to," Claridge replied; "but they haven't been
there--it is exactly as it was left. Only a lumber-room, you see," he
concluded, flinging the door open.

A number of partly broken-up packing-cases littered about this room, with
much other rubbish. Hewitt took the lid of one of the newest-looking
packing-cases, and glanced at the address label. Then he turned to a rusty
old iron box that stood against a wall. "I should like to see behind
this," he said, tugging at it with his hands. "It is heavy and dirty. Is
there a small crowbar about the house, or some similar lever?"

Mr. Claridge shook his head. "Ha