"If you did know to whom I gave the ring,
If you did know for whom I gave the ring,
And how unwillingly I left the ring,
You would abate the strength of your displeasure."
Merchant of Venice.

Leander strode down the street in a whirl of conflicting emotions. At the very moment when he seemed to have prevailed over Miss Parkinson's machinations, his evil fate had stepped in and undone him for ever! What would become of him without Matilda? As he was thinking of his gloomy prospects, he noticed, for the first time, that the statue was keeping step by his side, and he turned on her with smothered rage. "Well," he began, "I hope you're satisfied?"

"Quite, Leander, quite satisfied; for have I not found you?"

"Oh, you've found me right enough," he replied, with a groan—"trust you for that! What I should like to know is, how the dickens you did it?"

"Thus," she replied: "I awoke, and it was dark, and you were not there, and I needed you; and I went forth, and called you by your name. And you, now that you have hearkened to my call, you are happy, are you not?"

"Me?" said Leander, grimly. "Oh, I'm regular jolly, I am! Haven't I reason?"

"Your sisters seemed alarmed at my coming," she said. "Why?"

"Well," said Leander, "they aren't used to having marble goddesses dropping in on them promiscuously."

"The youngest wept: was it because I took you from her side?"

"I shouldn't wonder," he returned gruffly. "Don't bother me!"

When they were both safely within the little upper room again, he opened the cupboard door wide. "Now, marm," he said, in a voice which trembled with repressed rage, "you must be tired with the exercise you've took this evening, and I'll trouble you to walk in here."

"There are many things on which I would speak with you," she said.

"You must keep them for next time," he answered roughly. "If you can see anything, you can see that just now I'm not in a temper for to stand it, whatever I may be another evening."

"Why do I suffer this language from you?" she demanded indignantly—"why?"

"If you don't go in, you'll hear language you'll like still less, goddess or no goddess!" he said, foaming. "I mean it. I've been worked up past all bearing, and I advise you to let me alone just now, or you'll repent it!"

"Enough!" she said haughtily, and stalked proudly into the lonely niche, which he closed instantly. As he did so, he noticed his Sunday papers lying still folded on his table, and seized one eagerly.

"It may have something in it about what Jauncy was telling me of," he said; and his search was rewarded by the following paragraph:—

"Daring Capture of Burglars in Bloomsbury.—On the night of Friday, the —th, Police-constable Yorke, B 954, while on duty, in the course of one of his rounds, discovered two men, in a fainting condition and covered with blood, which was apparently flowing from sundry wounds upon their persons, lying against the railings of Queen Square. Being unable to give any coherent account of themselves, and housebreaking implements being found in their possession, they were at once removed to the Bow Street Station, where, the charge having been entered against them, they were recognized by a member of the force as two notorious housebreakers who have long been 'wanted' in connection with the Camberwell burglary, in which, as will be remembered, an officer lost his life."

The paragraph went on to give their names and sundry other details, and concluded with a sentence which plunged Leander into fresh torments:—

"In spite of the usual caution, both prisoners insisted upon volunteering a statement, the exact nature of which has not yet transpired, but which is believed to have reference to another equally mysterious outrage—the theft of the famous Venus from the Wricklesmarsh Collection—and is understood to divert suspicion into a hitherto unsuspected channel."

What could this mean, if not that those villains, smarting under their second failure, had denounced him in revenge? He tried to persuade himself that the passage would bear any other construction, but not very successfully. "If they have brought me in," he thought, and it was his only gleam of consolation, "I should have heard of it before this."

And even this gleam vanished as a sharp knocking was heard below; and, descending to open the door, he found his visitor to be Inspector Bilbow.

"Evening, Tweddle," said the Inspector, quietly. "I've come to have another little talk with you."

Leander thought he would play his part till it became quite hopeless. "Proud to see you, Mr. Inspector," he said. "Will you walk into my saloon? and I'll light the gas for you."

"No, don't you trouble yourself," said the terrible man. "I'll walk upstairs where you're sitting yourself, if you've no objections."

Leander dared not make any, and he ushered the detective upstairs accordingly.

"Ha!" said the latter, throwing a quick eye round the little room. "Nice little crib you've got here. Keep everything you want on the premises, eh? Find those cupboards very convenient, I dare say?"

"Very," said Leander (like the innocent Joseph Surface that he was); "oh, very convenient, sir." He tried to keep his eyes from resting too consciously upon the fatal door that held his secret.

"Keep your coal and your wine and spirits there?" said the detective. (Was he watching his countenance, or not?)

"Y—yes," said Leander; "leastways, in one of them. Will you take anything, sir?"

"Thank 'ee, Tweddle; I don't mind if I do. And what do you keep in the other one, now?"

"The other?" said the poor man. "Oh, odd things!" (He certainly had one odd thing in it.)

After the officer had chosen and mixed his spirits and water, he began: "Now, you know what's brought me here, don't you?"

("If he was sure, he wouldn't try to pump me," argued Leander. "I won't throw up just yet.")

"I suppose it's the ring," he replied innocently. "You don't mean to say you've got it back for me, Mr. Inspector? Well, I am glad."

"I thought you set no particular value on the ring when I met you last?" said the other.

"Why," said Leander, "I may have said so out of politeness, not wanting to trouble you; but, as you said it was the statue you were after chiefly, why, I don't mind admitting that I shall be thankful indeed to get that ring back. And so you've brought it, have you, sir?"

He said this so naturally, having called in all his powers of dissimulation to help him in his extremity, that the detective was favourably impressed. He had already felt a suspicion that he had been sent here on a fool's errand, and no one could have looked less like a daring criminal, and the trusted confederate of still more daring ruffians, than did Leander at that moment.

"Heard anything of Potter lately?" he asked, wishing to try the effect of a sudden coup.

"I don't know the gentleman," said Leander, firmly; for, after all, he did not.

"Now, take care. He's been seen to frequent this house. We know more than you think, young man."

"Oh! if he bluffs, I can bluff too," passed through Leander's mind. "Inspector Bilbow," he said, "I give you my sacred honour, I've never set eyes on him. He can't have been here, not with my knowledge. It's my belief you're trying to make out something against me. If you're a friend, Inspector, you'll tell me straight out."

"That's not our way of doing business; and yet, hang it, I ought to know an honest man by this time! Tweddle, I'll drop the investigator, and speak as man to man. You've been reported to me (never mind by whom) as the receiver of the stolen Venus—a pal of this very Potter—that's what I've against you, my man!"

"I know who told you that," said Leander; "it was that Count and his precious friend Braddle!"

"Oh, you know them, do you? That's an odd guess for an innocent man, Tweddle!"

"They found me out from inquiries at the gardens," said Leander; "and as for guessing, it's in this very paper. So it's me they've gone and implicated, have they? All right. I suppose they're men whose word you'd go by, wouldn't you, sir—truthful, reliable kind of parties, eh?"

"None of that, Tweddle," said the Inspector, rather uneasily. "We officers are bound to follow up any clue, no matter where it comes from. I was informed that that Venus is concealed somewhere about these premises. It may be, or it may not be; but it's my duty to make the proper investigations. If you were a prince of the blood, it would be all the same."

"Well, all I can say is, that I'm as innocent as my own toilet preparations. Ask yourself if it is likely. What could I do with a stolen statue—not to mention that I'm a respectable tradesman, with a reputation to maintain? Excuse me, but I'm afraid those burglars have been 'aving a lark with you, sir."

He went just a little too far here, for the detective was visibly irritated.

"Don't chatter to me," he said. "If you're innocent, so much the better for you; if that statue is found here after this, it will ruin you. If you know anything, be it ever so little, about it, the best thing you can do is to speak out while there's time."

"I can only say, once more, I'm as innocent as the drivelling snow," repeated Leander. "Why can't you believe my word against those blackguards?"

"Perhaps I do," said the other; "but I must make a formal look round, to ease my conscience."

Leander's composure nearly failed him. "By all means," he said at length. "Come and ease your conscience all over the house, sir, do; I can show you over."

"Softly," said the detective. "I'll begin here, and work gradually up, and then down again."

"Here?" said Leander, aghast. "Why, you've seen all there is there!"

"Now, Tweddle, I shall conduct this my own way, if you please. I've been following your eyes, Tweddle, and they've told me tales. I'll trouble you to open that cupboard you keep looking at so."

"This cupboard?" cried Leander. "Why, you don't suppose I've got the Venus in there, sir!"

"If it's anywhere, it's there! There's no taking me in, I tell you. Open it!"

"Oh!" said Leander, "it is hard to be the object of these cruel suspicions. Mr. Inspector, listen to me. I can't open that cupboard, and I'll tell you why.... You—you've been young yourself.... Think how you'd feel in my situation ... and consider her! As a gentleman, you won't press it, I'm sure!"

"If I'm making any mistake, I shall know how to apologise," said the Inspector. "If you don't open that cupboard, I shall."

"Never!" exclaimed Leander. "I'll die first!" and he threw himself upon the handle.

The other caught him by the shoulders, and sent him twirling into the opposite corner; and then, taking a key from his own pocket, he opened the door himself.

"I—I never encouraged her!" whimpered Leander, as he saw that all was lost.

The officer had stepped back in silence from the cupboard; then he faced Leander, with a changed expression. "I suppose you think yourself devilish sharp?" he said savagely; and Leander discovered that the cupboard was as bare as Mother Hubbard's!

He was not precisely surprised, except at first. "She's keeping out of the way; she wouldn't be the goddess she is if she couldn't do a trifling thing like that!" was all he thought of the phenomenon. He forced himself to laugh a little.

"Excuse me," he said, "but you did seem so set on detecting something wrong, that I couldn't help humouring you!"

Inspector Bilbow was considerably out of humour, and gave Leander to understand that he would laugh in a certain obscure region, known as "the other side of his face," by-and-by. "You take care, that's my advice to you, young man. I've a deuced good mind to arrest you on suspicion as it is!" he said hotly.

"Lor', sir!" said Leander, "what for—for not having anything in that cupboard?"

"It's my belief you know more than you choose to tell. Be that as it may, I shall not take you into custody for the present; but you pay attention to what I'm going to tell you next. Don't you attempt to leave this house, or to remove anything from it, till you see me again, and that'll be some time to-morrow evening. If you do attempt it, you'll be apprehended at once, for you're being watched. I tell you that for your own sake, Tweddle; for I've no wish to get you into trouble if you act fairly by me. But mind you stay where you are for the next twenty-four hours."

"And what's to happen then?" said Leander.

"I mean to have the whole house thoroughly searched and you must be ready to give us every assistance—that's what's to happen. I might make a secret of it; but where's the use? If you're not a fool, you'll see that it won't do to play any tricks. You'd far better stand by me than Potter."

"I tell you I don't know Potter. Blow Potter!" said Leander, warmly.

"We shall see," was all the detective deigned to reply; "and just be ready for my men to-morrow evening, or take the consequences. Those are my last words to you!"

And with this he took his leave. He was by no means the most brilliant officer in the Department, and he felt uncomfortably aware that he did not see his way clear as yet. He could not even make up his mind on so elementary a point as Leander's guilt or innocence.

But he meant to take the course he had announced, and his frankness in giving previous notice was not without calculation. He argued thus: If Tweddle was free from all complicity, nothing was lost by delaying the search for a day; if he were guilty, he would be more than mortal if he did not attempt, after such a warning, either to hide his booty more securely, and probably leave traces which would betray him, or else to escape when his guilt would be manifest.

Unfortunately, there were circumstances in the case which he could not be expected to know, and which made his logic inapplicable.

After he had gone, Leander thrust his hands deep into his pockets, and began to whistle forlornly. "A little while ago it was burglars—now it's police!" he reflected aloud. "I'm going it, I am! And then there's Matilda and that there Venus—one predickyment on top of another!" (But here a sudden hope lightened his burden.) "Suppose she's took herself off for good?" He was prevented from indulging this any further by a long, low laugh, which came from the closed cupboard.

"No such luck—she's back again!" he groaned. "Oh, come out if you want to. Don't stay larfin' at me in there!"

The goddess stepped out, with a smile of subdued mirth upon her lips. "Leander," she said, "did it surprise you just now that I had vanished?"

"Oh," he said wearily, "I don't know—yes, I suppose so. You found some way of getting through at the back, I dare say?"

"Do you think that even now I cannot break through the petty restraints of matter?"

"Well, however it was managed, it was cleverly done. I must say that. I didn't hardly expect it of you. But you must do the same to-morrow night, mind you!"

"Must I, indeed?" she said.

"Yes, unless you want to ruin me altogether, you must. They're going to search the premises for you!"

"I have heard all," she said. "But give yourself no anxiety: by that time you and I will be beyond human reach."

"Not me," he corrected. "If you think I'm going to let myself be wafted over to Cyprus (which is British soil now, let me tell you), you're under a entire delusion. I've never been wafted anywhere yet, and I don't mean to try it!"

All her pent-up wrath broke forth and descended upon him with crushing force.

"Meanest and most contemptible of mortal men, you shall recognize me as the goddess I am! I have borne with you too long; it shall end this night. Shallow fool that you have been, to match your puny intellect against a goddess famed for her wiles as for her beauty! You have thought me simple and guileless; you have never feared to treat me with disrespect; you have even dared to suppose that you could keep me—an immortal—pent within these wretched walls! I humoured you; I let you fool yourself with the notion that your will was free—your soul your own. Now that is over! Consider the perils which encircle you. Everything has been aiding to drive you into these arms. My hour of triumph is at hand—yield, then! Cast yourself at my feet, and grovel for pardon—for mercy—or assuredly I will spare you not!"

Leander went down on all fours on the hearthrug. "Mercy!" he cried, feebly. "I've meant no offence. Only tell me what you want of me."

"Why should I tell you again? I demand the words from you which place you within my power: speak them at once!"

("Ah," thought Leander, "I am not in her power as it is, then.") "If I was to tell you once more that I couldn't undertake to say any such words?" he asked aloud.

"Then," she said, "my patience would be at an end, and I would scatter your vile frame to the four winds of heaven!"

"Lady Venus," said Leander, getting up with a white and desperate face, "don't drive me into a corner. I can't go off, not at a moment's notice—in either way! I—I must have a day—only a day—to make my arrangements in. Give me a day, Lady Venus; I ask it as a partickler favour!"

"Be it so," she said. "One day I give you in which to take leave of such as may be dear to you; but, after that, I will listen to no further pleadings. You are mine, and, all unworthy as you are, I shall hold you to your pledge!"

Leander was left with this terrible warning ringing in his ears: the goddess would hold him to his involuntary pledge. Even he could see that it was pride, and not affection, which rendered her so determined; and he trembled at the thought of placing himself irrevocably in her power.

But what was he to do? The alternative was too awful; and then, in either case, he must lose Matilda. Here the recollection of how he had left her came over him with a vivid force. What must she be thinking of him at that moment? And who would ever tell her the truth, when he had been spirited away for ever?

"Oh, Matilda!" he cried, "if you only knew the hidgeous position I'm in—if you could only advise me what to do—I could bear it better!"

And then he resolved that he would ask that advice without delay, and decide nothing until she replied. There was no reason for any further concealment: she had seen the statue herself, and must know the worst. What she could not know was his perfect innocence of any real unfaithfulness to her, and that he must explain.

He sat up all night composing a letter that should touch her to the heart, with the following result:—

Dawn was breaking as he put the final touches to this appeal, and read it over with a gloomy approbation. He had always cherished the conviction that he could "write a good letter when he was put to it," and felt now that he had more than risen to the occasion.

"William shall take it down to Bayswater the first thing to-morrow—no, to-day, I mean," he said, rubbing his hot eyes. "I fancy it will do my business!"

And it did.