to chat with one of the assistants.

I looked at the clock, and saw that nearly half an hour had elapsed
since the Count had left. A constable had looked in and inquired about
the car, but I had assured him that in a few minutes we should be off,
and begged, as a favour, that it might be allowed to remain until my
master's return.

Another quarter of an hour elapsed, when the door opened, and there
entered two respectably dressed men in dark overcoats, one wearing a
soft brown felt hat and the other a "bowler."

They asked to see the manager, and the assistant who had been chatting
to me conducted them through the shop to the office beyond. Both men
were of middle age and well set up, and as they entered, I saw that a
third man, much younger, was with them. He, however, did not come in,
but stood in the doorway, idly glancing up and down Bond Street.

Within the office I distinctly heard the manager utter an exclamation of
surprise, and then one of the men, in a deep, low voice, seemed to enter
into a long explanation.

The elder of the two strangers walked along the shop to the door, and
going outside, spoke some words to the man who had accompanied them.
On re-entering, he passed me, giving me a sharp glance, and then
disappeared again into the office, where, for five minutes or so, he
remained closeted with the manager.

Presently the last-named came out, and as he approached me I noticed an
entire change in his manner. He was pale, almost to the lips.

"Will you step into my office for one moment?" he asked. "There's--well,
a little matter upon which I want to speak to you."

This surprised me. What could he mean?

Nevertheless, I consented, and in a few moments found myself in a large,
well-lit office with the manager and the two strangers.

The man in the brown felt hat was the first to speak.

"We want to ask you a question or two," he said. "Do you recognise
this?" and he produced a small square photograph of a man upon whose
coat was a white ticket bearing a bold number. I started when my eyes
fell upon it.

"My master!" I ejaculated.

The portrait was a police photograph! The men were detectives!

The inspector, for such he was, turned to the jeweller's manager, and
regarded him with a significant look.

"It's a good job we've arrested him with the stuff on him," he remarked,
"otherwise you'd never have seen the colour of it again. He's worked the
same dodge in Rome and Berlin, and both times