ate of deposit, opened a
compartment in the safe, and tossed in the bag without sealing it.
And, as I stood waiting, he lighted a scented cigarette, glanced over
at me, puffed once or twice, and finally dismissed me with a
discourteous nod.

I went, because he was Mornac; I thought that I was entitled to a
bureau receipt, but could scarcely demand one from the chief of the
entire department who had taken over the bureau solely in order to
reform it, root and branch. Doubtless his curt dismissal of me without
the customary receipt and his failure to seal the bag were two of his
reforms.

I limped off past the glittering steel cage, thankful that the jewels
were safe, turned into the corridor, and hastened back to my own
rooms.

To tear off my rags, bathe, shave, and dress in a light suit of
civilian clothes took me longer than usual, for I was a trifle lame.

Bath and clean clothes ought to have cheered me; but the contrary was
the case, and I sat down to a breakfast brought by a palace servant,
and ate it gloomily, thinking of Buckhurst, and the Countess, and of
Morsbronn, and of the muddy dead lying under the rifle smoke below my
turret window.

I thought, too, of that astonishing conspiracy which had formed under
the very shadow of the imperial throne, and through which already the
crucifix and diamonds of Louis XI. had been so nearly lost to France.

Who besides Buckhurst was involved? How far had Colonel Jarras gone in
the investigation during my absence? How close to the imperial throne
had the conspiracy burrowed?

Pondering, I slowly retraced my steps through the bedroom and
dressing-room, and out into the tiled hallway, where, at the end of
the dim corridor, the door of Colonel Jarras's bureau stood partly
open.

Jarras was sitting at his desk as I entered, and he gave me a
leaden-eyed stare as I closed the door behind me and stood at
attention.

For a moment he said nothing, but presently he partly turned his
ponderous body towards me and motioned me to a chair.

As I sat down I glanced around and saw my old comrade, Speed, sitting
in a dark corner, chewing a cigarette and watching me in alert
silence.

"You are present to report?" suggested Colonel Jarras, heavily.

I bowed, glancing across at Speed, who shrugged his shoulders and
looked at the floor with an ominous smile.

Mystified, I began my report, but was immediately stopped by Jarras
with a peevish gesture: "All right, all right; keep