nothing but a bare hypothesis until we had seen Futashima--and,
indeed, is no more now. I may, after all, be entirely mistaken."

He was not, however; and at this moment there reposes in my drawing-room
an ancient netsuke, which came as a thank-offering from Mr. Isaac Loewe
on the recovery of the booty from a back room in No. 13, Birket Street,
Limehouse. The treasure, of course, was given in the first place to
Thorndyke, but transferred by him to my wife on the pretence that but
for my suggestion of shell-dust the robber would never have been traced.
Which is, on the face of it, preposterous.

IV

THE BLUE SEQUIN

Thorndyke stood looking up and down the platform with anxiety that
increased as the time drew near for the departure of the train.

"This is very unfortunate," he said, reluctantly stepping into an empty
smoking compartment as the guard executed a flourish with his green
flag. "I am afraid we have missed our friend." He closed the door, and,
as the train began to move, thrust his head out of the window.

"Now I wonder if that will be he," he continued. "If so, he has caught
the train by the skin of his teeth, and is now in one of the rear
compartments."

The subject of Thorndyke's speculations was Mr. Edward Stopford, of the
firm of Stopford and Myers, of Portugal Street, solicitors, and his
connection with us at present arose out of a telegram that had reached
our chambers on the preceding evening. It was reply-paid, and ran thus:

"Can you come here to-morrow to direct defence? Important case. All
costs undertaken by us.--STOPFORD AND MYERS."

Thorndyke's reply had been in the affirmative, and early on this present
morning a further telegram--evidently posted overnight--had been
delivered:

"Shall leave for Woldhurst by 8.25 from Charing Cross. Will call
for you if possible.--EDWARD STOPFORD."

He had not called, however, and, since he was unknown personally to us
both, we could not judge whether or not he had been among the passengers
on the platform.

"It is most unfortunate," Thorndyke repeated, "for it deprives us of
that preliminary consideration of the case which is so invaluable." He
filled his pipe thoughtfully, and, having made a fruitless inspection of
the platform at London Bridge, took up the paper that he had bought at
the bookstall, and began to turn over the leaves, running his eye
quickly down the columns, unmindful of the journalistic baits in
para