imself silently in answer to the bell,
and was standing in the doorway.

"Simmons!" Mr. Brewster turned to him wildly. "Has anyone been in this
suite since I went away?"

"No, sir."

"Nobody?"

"Nobody except your valet, sir--Parker. He said he had come to
fetch some things away. I supposed he had come from you, sir, with
instructions."

"Get out!"

Professor Binstead had unwrapped his parcel, and had placed the Pongo
on the table. There was a weighty silence. Archie picked up the little
china figure and balanced it on the palm of his hand. It was a small
thing, he reflected philosophically, but it had made quite a stir in the
world.

Mr. Brewster fermented for a while without speaking.

"So," he said, at last, in a voice trembling with self-pity, "I have
been to all this trouble--"

"And expense," put in Professor Binstead, gently.

"Merely to buy back something which had been stolen from me! And, owing
to your damned officiousness," he cried, turning on Archie, "I have had
to pay twenty-three hundred dollars for it! I don't know why they make
such a fuss about Job. Job never had anything like you around!"

"Of course," argued Archie, "he had one or two boils."

"Boils! What are boils?"

"Dashed sorry," murmured Archie. "Acted for the best. Meant well. And
all that sort of rot!"

Professor Binstead's mind seemed occupied to the exclusion of all other
aspects of the affair, with the ingenuity of the absent Parker.

"A cunning scheme!" he said. "A very cunning scheme! This man Parker
must have a brain of no low order. I should like to feel his bumps!"

"I should like to give him some!" said the stricken Mr. Brewster. He
breathed a deep breath. "Oh, well," he said, "situated as I am, with a
crook valet and an imbecile son-in-law, I suppose I ought to be
thankful that I've still got my own property, even if I have had to
pay twenty-three hundred dollars for the privilege of keeping it." He
rounded on Archie, who was in a reverie. The thought of the unfortunate
Bill had just crossed Archie's mind. It would be many moons, many
weary moons, before Mr. Brewster would be in a suitable mood to listen
sympathetically to the story of love's young dream. "Give me that
figure!"

Archie continued to toy absently with Pongo. He was wondering now
how best to break this sad occurrence to Lucille. It would be a
disappointment for the poor girl.

"GIVE ME THAT FIGURE!"

Archie started violently. There was an ins