a mark of public esteem and gratitude,'
etc. He wondered if William Smith would steal the frame. It was to be
hoped that he would not steal the frame. In fact, William Smith would
find it very difficult to steal that frame unless he had an accomplice
or so.

'This is the last time I shall see YOU!' said Sir Jee to the portrait.

Then he unfastened the catch of one of the windows in the dining-room
(as per contract with William Smith), turned out the electric light,
and went to bed in the deserted castle.

He went to bed, but not to sleep. It was no part of Sir Jee's programme
to sleep. He intended to listen, and he did listen.

And about two o'clock, precisely the hour which William Smith had
indicated, he fancied he heard muffled and discreet noises. Then he was
sure that he heard them. William Smith had kept his word. Then the
noises ceased for a period, and then they recommenced. Sir Jee
restrained his curiosity as long as he could, and when he could
restrain it no more he rose and silently opened his bedroom window and
put his head out into the nipping night air of Christmas. And by good
fortune he saw the vast oblong of the picture, carefully enveloped in
sheets, being passed by a couple of dark figures through the
dining-room window to the garden outside. William Smith had a
colleague, then, and he was taking the frame as well as the canvas. Sir
Jee watched the men disappear down the avenue, and they did not
reappear. Sir Jee returned to bed.

Yes, he felt himself equal to facing it out with his family and
friends. He felt himself equal to pretending that he had no knowledge
of the burglary.

Having slept a few hours, he got up early and, half-dressed, descended
to the dining-room just to see what sort of a mess William Smith had
made.

The canvas of the portrait lay flat on the hearthrug, with the
following words written on it in chalk: 'This is no use to me.' It was
the massive gold frame that had gone.

Further, as was later discovered, all the silver had gone. Not a spoon
was left in the castle.

NEWS OF THE ENGAGEMENT

My mother never came to meet me at Bursley station when I arrived in
the Five Towns from London; much less did she come as far as Knype
station, which is the great traffic centre of the district, the point
at which one changes from the express into the local train. She had
always other things to do; she was 'preparing' for me. So I had the
little journey from Knype to Burs