under the feet of yet another person
who had gone like he, but by a different staircase, to the floors
above.

It was, therefore, only by the merest chance that he looked down
one of the passages in passing and saw a swift-moving figure--a
woman's--cross it at the lower end and pass hastily into the nursery
of the sleeping boy. And--whether her purpose was a good or an evil
one--it was something of a shock to realize that the woman who was
doing this was the Honourable Mrs. Carruthers.

He locked the kit-bag, and went back to the dining-room just as the
little gathering was breaking up, and Mr. Claude Essington, who
always fed his magpies and his other pets himself, was bewailing
the fact that he had "forgotten the beauties until this minute" and
was smoothing out an old newspaper in which to wrap the scraps of
cheese and meat he had sent the butler to the kitchen to procure.

The Honourable Felix looked up at Cleek with a question in his eye.

"No," he contrived to whisper in reply. "It was not anything
poisonous--merely candle wax. The bird had flown in through the
store-room window, and the housekeeper caught it carrying away
candles one by one."

The Honourable Felix made no response, nor would it have been heard
had he done so; for just at that moment young Essington, whose eye
had been caught by something in the paper, burst out into a loud
guffaw.

"I say, this is rich. Listen here, you fellows! Lay you a tenner that
the chap who wrote this was a Paddy Whack, for a finer bull never
escaped from a Tipperary paddock:

"'Lost: Somewhere between Portsmouth and London or some other
spot on the way, a small black leather bag containing a death
certificate and some other things of no value to anybody but
the owner. Finder will be liberally rewarded if all contents
are returned intact to

"'D. J. O'M., 425 Savile Row, West.'

"There's a beautiful example of English as she is advertised for you;
and if--Hullo, Deland, old chap, what's the matter with you?"

For Cleek had suddenly jumped up and, catching the Honourable Felix
by the shoulder, was hurrying him out of the room.

"Just thought of something--that's all. Got to make a run; be with
you again before bedtime," he answered evasively. But once on the
other side of the door: "'Write me down an ass,'" he quoted, turning
to his host. "No, don't ask any questions. Lend me your auto and your
chauffeur. Call up both