was no
likelihood of your carpets being lifted for some time."

"My carpets!" gasped Robert. "What the----"

"Oh, do _wait_!" said Beatrice pettishly; and he collapsed, as was only
fitting. "I came next day and the cleaner had gone. During the morning I
made discreet inquiries as to your habits and mode of life. In the
evening I hired a cab, drove to Kensington to put any possible trackers
off the scent, changed into another cab and drove back here. At
seven-thirty I called. You were out, and your wife said you would not be
back for at least half an hour. I asked if I might wait, as my business
was important. She hesitated, but consented, my sables being a guarantee
that I had not come with any designs on your plate.

"However, to my disgust she insisted on remaining in the room and
discussing trivialities. Of course, as long as she remained I was
helpless, and my well-meant hints were disregarded. I was in despair;
but presently the cook burst in with a woeful tale of a scorched
petticoat, and the situation was saved. Your wife darted out to survey
the damage, and the next moment my precious papers were hidden beneath
the carpet.

"Mrs. Hedderwick returned within a very few minutes, full of apologies
and (I fear) regrets that she had left the room. I did not prolong my
visit. On the plea that I could not wait further, and promising to call
again, I managed to escape. If you wish for proof, look under the carpet
beneath your chair."

Mr. Hedderwick sprang up like an eager schoolboy. He seized the poker,
inserted it under the carpet, and with a crackling wrench prized up a
yard or two. With trembling fingers he tore it back still farther, and
then his face fell. He stood up, a disappointed man. "There is nothing
here," he said accusingly. "This is an anticlimax to a capital tale."

Lionel did not move, but his face darkened. During the recital he had
felt a warm glow of faith pervade his whole being, a glow that was not
diminished by the contemplation of Beatrice. By the time she had
finished he was a devout adherent, and now the shock of disillusion
swung him back once more to the certainty of doubt. He did not speak,
but his eyes sought hers in a question he could not put into words. The
lady alone seemed unembarrassed. She gave a regretful sigh.

"There is no anticlimax," she said. "Rather it is the thickening of the
plot. Of course they have been taken by Mizzi. Has she been there
recently--yesterday?"

"No