ied Doyle, pressing an electric button.

When the servant appeared he said: 'I am not at home to anyone. No
matter who calls, or what excuse is given, you must permit none to
approach this room.'

When the servant had withdrawn, Doyle took the further precaution of
thrusting in place one of the huge bolts which ornamented the massive
oaken door studded with iron knobs. Sir George withdrew from the tail
pocket of his dress coat two canvas bags, and, untying the strings,
poured the rich red gold on the smooth table.

'I think you will find that right,' he said; 'six thousand pounds in
all.'

The writer dragged his heavy chair nearer the table, and began to
count the coins two by two, withdrawing each pair from the pile with
his extended forefingers in the manner of one accustomed to deal with
great treasure. For a time the silence was unbroken, save by the chink
of gold, when suddenly a high-keyed voice outside penetrated even the
stout oak of the huge door. The shrill exclamation seemed to touch a
chord of remembrance in the mind of Sir George Newnes. Nervously he
grasped the arms of his chair, sitting very bolt upright, muttering:--

'Can it be he, of all persons, at this time, of all times?'

Doyle glanced up with an expression of annoyance on his face,
murmuring, to keep his memory green:--

'A hundred and ten, a hundred and ten, a hundred and ten.'

'Not at home?' cried the vibrant voice. 'Nonsense! Everybody is at
home on Christmas Eve!'

'_You_ don't seem to be,' he heard the servant reply.

'Me? Oh, I have no home, merely rooms in Baker Street. I must see your
master, and at once.'

'Master left in his motor car half an hour ago to attend the county
ball, given tonight, at the Royal Huts Hotel, seven miles away,'
answered the servant, with that glib mastery of fiction which
unconsciously comes to those who are members, even in a humble
capacity, of a household devoted to the production of imaginative art.

'Nonsense, I say again,' came the strident voice. 'It is true that the
tracks of an automobile are on the ground in front of your door, but
if you will notice the markings of the puncture-proof belt, you will
see that the automobile is returning and not departing. It went to the
station before the last shower to bring back a visitor, and since its
arrival there has been no rain. That suit of armour in the hall
spattered with mud shows it to be the casing the visitor wore. The
blazonry upon it of a