rough some sort of farce, which gives the criminal
time to make good his escape, and to permit the newspapers to seize upon
and publish every item, to detail every clue, as fast as discovered; all
this being in favor of the law-breakers, and detrimental to the
conscientious officers of justice.

In France, they complain of too much red tape in the police department.
Let them supply us out of their superabundance; we have too little.

While Corliss "investigates," the mayor delivers an impromptu oration;
and Mr. Craig, of the _Argus_, takes notes, according to his own light.

Out of his inner consciousness, the _Argus_ man evokes an idea, which
Corliss is not slow to adopt and use as his own.

"I suppose they will have a detective down as soon as possible," says
Mr. Craig, as Corliss lays one ruthless hand on an overturned chair. "If
I were you, Corliss, I would leave everything exactly as I find it, for
the benefit of whoever works up the case."

Corliss slowly lowers the chair to its former position, and turns upon
Craig a look of offended dignity.

"Why, what did you suppose I intended to do?"

"Umph!" retorted Craig, with a disrespectful sniff, "I rather thought
you intended to sit down in that chair."

Turning his back upon the flippant young man, so sadly lacking in
respect for the "powers that be," Corliss pursues his investigations. He
has read, in many novels and sensational newspapers, vivid descriptions
of similar examinations, and he goes to work after the most approved
fashion. He scrutinizes the window, the open blind, the cut pane, the
hangings within and the down-trodden shrubbery without; he darts out,
and dives in; he peers under every thing, over every thing, into every
thing; he inspects, over and again, the mutilated writing case, or safe,
from which the treasure was actually taken; and raps and sounds it as if
in search of some private receptacle that the thieves had overlooked, or
Miss Wardour never found out. He goes down flat upon his stomach, and
scrutinizes Miss Wardour's scrupulously swept carpets, in search of a
footprint in the dust that is not there.

While he performs these feats, the mayor follows him about solemnly, and
full of wondering admiration; and the man of the _Argus_ scribbles, and
chuckles and grins maliciously.

Meantime, there have been other arrivals at Wardour Place; and
Constance, leaving the inspectors to their own devices, is standing in
her drawing-room, talk