and more or less the worse for wear.

All four men were masked and gloved, and working with a rapidity and
method which were remarkable. With the exception of the packer, who wore
a footman's livery, they were attired in evening-dress.

"We find it easier," said the master, as if interpreting my thoughts,
"to do it all on the spot. Then it's over and done with. I do hope
you're insured," he added. "I always think it's so much more
satisfactory."

"Up to the hilt," said I cheerfully. "We had it all re-valued only this
year, because of the rise in silver."

"Splendid!"--enthusiastically. "But I'm neglecting you." With his left
hand the rogue picked up an ash-tray and stepped to my side. Then he
backed to the mantelpiece, whence he picked up and brought me a handful
of cigarettes, laying them on the broad arm of my chair. "I'm afraid the
box has gone," he said regretfully. "May I mix you a drink?"

I shook my head.

"I've had my ration. If I'd known, I'd have saved some. You see, I don't
sit up so late, as a rule."

He shrugged his shoulders.

As he did so, my own last words rang familiarly in my ears: "I don't sit
up so late" ... "Don't sit up." ...

Jonah! He and Harry were due to arrive any moment!

Hope leaped up within me, and my heart began to beat violently. I
glanced at the silver, still lying upon the rugs. Slowly it was
diminishing, and the services of a second suit-case would soon be
necessary. I calculated that to complete the bestowal would take the
best part of an hour, and began to speculate upon the course events
would take when the travellers appeared. I began to pray fervently that
Harry would be unable to get in at the Club....

"Now, then, you three," said a reproving voice. "I'm surprised at you."

Daphne!

The rogues were trained to a hair.

Before she was framed in the doorway, the cold steel of another weapon
was pressing against my throat, and the master was bowing in her
direction.

"Madam, I beg that you will neither move nor cry out."

My sister stood like a statue. Only the rise and fall of her bosom
showed that she was alive. Pale as death, her eyes riveted on the
speaker, who was holding his right hand markedly behind him, her unbound
hair streaming over her shoulders, she made a beautiful and arresting
picture. A kimono of softest apricot, over which sprawled vivid
embroideries, here in the guise of parti-coloured dragons, there in that
of a wanton butterfly, swathed her