head sadly.

"Not a ray of light has been thrown on the mystery," he replied, "though
the best Scotland Yard men are at work. You may depend upon it that the
insurance people, who stand to lose ten thousand pounds, will leave no
stone unturned. As for Raper, our watchman, he has been discharged. Mr.
Drummond and I are convinced that his story was true, but it was
impossible to overlook his gross carelessness. We never knew that he
was in the habit of going nightly to the public house in Crown Court."

"It's a wonder you were not robbed before," said Jack. "You have my
address--will you let me know if anything occurs?"

"Certainly, Mr. Vernon. Must you be off? Good morning!"

Jack sauntered along Pall Mall, and turned up Regent street. At
Piccadilly Circus he saw two men standing before the cigar shop on the
corner. One was young and boyish looking. The other, a few years older,
was of medium height and stout beyond proportion; he wore a tweed suit
of a rather big check pattern, and the coat was buttoned over a scarlet
waistcoat; the straw hat, gaudily beribboned, shaded a fat, jolly,
half-comical face, of the type that readily inspires confidence. He was
talking to his companion animatedly when he saw Jack approaching. With a
boisterous exclamation of delight he rushed up to him and clapped him on
the shoulder.

"Clare, old boy!" he cried.

"Jimmie Drexell!" Jack gasped in amazement. "Dear old chap, how awfully
glad I am to see you!"

With genuine and heartfelt emotion they shook hands and looked into
each other's eyes--these two who had not met for long years, since the
rollicksome days of student life in Paris when they had been as intimate
as brothers.

"You're fit as a king, my boy--not much changed," spluttered Drexell,
with a strong American accent to his kindly, mellow voice. "I was going
to look you up to-day--only landed at Southampton yesterday--got beastly
tired of New York--yearned for London and Paris--shan't go back for six
months or a year, hanged if I do."

"I'm jolly glad to hear it, Jimmie."

"We'll see a lot of each other--eh, old man? So, you've stuck to the
name of Vernon? I called you Clare, didn't I? Yes, I forgot. You told me
you had taken the other name when you wrote a couple of years ago. I
haven't heard from you since, except through the papers. You've made
a hit, I understand. Doing well?"

"Rather! I've no cause to complain. And you, Jimmie? What's become of
the art?"

"Chuc