s sad fate. He refused in any way to attach the
slightest blame to his old and faithful servant Robertson, who had
caught, perhaps, his death of cold in his zeal for his absent master. As
for any hint of suspicion falling even remotely upon the man, the very
idea appeared to Mr. Knopf absolutely preposterous.

"With regard to the old charwoman, Mr. Knopf certainly knew nothing
about her, beyond the fact that she had been recommended to him by one
of the tradespeople in the neighbourhood, and seemed perfectly honest,
respectable, and sober.

"About the tramp Mr. Knopf knew still less, nor could he imagine how he,
or in fact anybody else, could possibly know that he happened to have
diamonds in his house that night.

"This certainly seemed the great hitch in the case.

"Mr. Ferdinand Knopf, at the instance of the police, later on went to
the station and had a look at the suspected tramp. He declared that he
had never set eyes on him before.

"Mr. Shipman, on his way home from business in the afternoon, had done
likewise, and made a similar statement.

"Brought before the magistrate, the tramp gave but a poor account of
himself. He gave a name and address, which latter, of course, proved to
be false. After that he absolutely refused to speak. He seemed not to
care whether he was kept in custody or not. Very soon even the police
realized that, for the present, at any rate, nothing could be got out of
the suspected tramp.

"Mr. Francis Howard, the detective, who had charge of the case, though
he would not admit it even to himself, was at his wits' ends. You must
remember that the burglary, through its very simplicity, was an
exceedingly mysterious affair. The constable, D 21, who had stood in
Adam and Eve Mews, presumably while Mr. Knopf's house was being robbed,
had seen no one turn out from the _cul-de-sac_ into the main passage of
the mews.

"The stables, which immediately faced the back entrance of the
Phillimore Terrace houses, were all private ones belonging to residents
in the neighbourhood. The coachmen, their families, and all the grooms
who slept in the stablings were rigidly watched and questioned. One and
all had seen nothing, heard nothing, until Robertson's shrieks had
roused them from their sleep.

"As for the letter from Brighton, it was absolutely commonplace, and
written upon note-paper which the detective, with Machiavellian cunning,
traced to a stationer's shop in West Street. But the trade at