"And so, Hollings," the great Mr. Burton began, "while your back was turned, you have lost some of our valuable diamonds."

"My back was not turned, sir," objected Hollings. "I merely looked away a minute."

"Long enough to give a pair of thieves the opportunity to work."

"It hardly seemed so."

"But it was."

"I'm afraid so, Mr. Burton. I am deeply sorry, sir; and yet had I it to do over again I hardly see—"

"It wasn't his fault, Dad—indeed it wasn't. I saw the whole thing, you know. It was done so fast you almost thought your eyes deceived you."

"Oh, the men were experts. There can be no questions about that!" cut in the deep voice of the inspector. "Now, Mr. Burton, instead of wasting time in reprimands, we've got to get down to facts. May I question these people?"

"Certainly, certainly!" Mr. Burton, however, seemed to be taken aback at being treated with such scant ceremony. "This is Mr. Hollings, the clerk; and this lad is my son, Christopher."

"Very good! Now, Mr. Hollings, suppose you tell your tale first. Relate exactly what happened—not what you thought or supposed. Stick to facts."

"I will, sir."

In a trembling voice Hollings began his story, and as he recounted it, Mr. Inspector jotted it down, merely pausing now and then to ask a curt question.

"Can you describe the men?" inquired he, when the narrative was finished.

"I'm afraid I can't, sir, beyond the fact that both of them wore raccoon motoring coats, and kept their collars pretty well turned up. You see I was far too much occupied with what they were saying to consider how they looked."

"You could not identify them then?"

"Not positively—no, I regret to say I couldn't. I might possibly recognize the hand or the voice of the big man."

"The one who tried on the rings?"

"Yes, sir."

"But you could not pick him out from a group of others or identify him by photograph."

"No, I couldn't."

"That's a pity. In your work you should be more observing."

"I know I should. I will be in the future."

The inspector smiled grimly.

"We all lock the gate after the cows are out of the pasture," commented he. "Well, if this is all you can offer, I'll try the boy. Your name, sonny."

"Christopher Burton."

"Christopher Mark Antony Burton, fourth," interrupted his father in an aggrieved tone.

"Does all that belong to you?" asked the inspector, his eyes fixed on the lad's face with hawk-like scrutiny.

"I'm afraid it does."

"Afraid, Christopher!" Mr. Burton ejaculated. "Afraid! Why, it is a fine, honorable name. Your grandfather and your great-grandfather—"

"Suppose we omit his grandfathers for the present," said the inspector, unceremoniously putting an end to Mr. Burton's dissertation. "So that's your name, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why didn't you give the whole of it at the beginning?"

"Oh, because there are such yards of it."

The inspector grinned.

"Now be good enough to tell us your version of this affair. Relate exactly what you saw, heard, and did."

"I'm afraid I didn't do much," protested Christopher sheepishly.

"You might have done more and I won't deny I wish to goodness you had. However, you acted with considerable sense. You might have done worse—much worse."

"I'm glad if you think so," the boy asserted modestly. "It seemed to me afterward that I had been very stupid. It all was so quick! Almost like sleight-of-hand."

"You were up against experts, sonny," Mr. Inspector remarked more gently than he had yet spoken. "You did well to detect them at all. Now fire ahead with your yarn."

In simple, straightforward fashion Christopher told his story and it was evident several parts afforded his critical listener satisfaction, for twice he muttered beneath his breath:

"Very good! Very good!"

The tale finished, Christopher paused, breathless.

"Could you give me any description of these fellows?" his cross questioner inquired.

"The big chap—the one who tried on the rings—was tall, heavy, had light hair and a bald spot on the top of his head. I looked right down on it."

"Excellent!"

"His eyes I could not see. His face was smooth-shaven, and on his right cheek, going from his ear almost to the corner of his mouth, was a white, queer sort of scar that—"

The inspector started from his seat, then sank back again.

"Ah!" was all he said. "And the other fellow?"

"Small, dark, black-haired, with a coat much too big for him. His nose was sharp, and he kept looking over his shoulder."

"Anything else?"

"I'm afraid that's all, except that his hands were dirty as if they had been in ink or grease or something. Maybe they hadn't, though."

The inspector beamed upon him.

"You have a very observing son, Mr. Burton, very! He's a fine lad. You should be proud of him."

"Has he helped you at all?"

"At all? He has given me precisely the information I was after."

"And you think you could identify the men?"

"I know them already."

"Know who they are?" gasped Christopher.

"Yes."

It was obvious the expert was enjoying the lad's mystification.

"You don't mean you know their names," persisted Christopher.

"Indeed I do—all their many names, for they have almost as long a list of them as you have yourself."

The inspector evidently considered this a good joke, for he laughed heartily at it without noticing how the great Mr. Burton glared at him.

"And not only do I know their names, but I have their pictures as well," he continued, when he had done laughing. "What do you think of that?"

"Met them before, have you?" interrogated Mr. Burton, his disapproval mollified to some degree by his pride in his son.

"Oh, I know all about that pair," replied the inspector; "if they prove to be the couple I think them. No wonder your clerk failed to suspect them. They are very polished gentleman."

"They were indeed, sir," Hollings put in. "They had a million-dollar air about them."

"I know they had. They are crackajacks at this sort of thing. They are wanted this minute in Chicago for a job not unlike this one."

"Really!"

Christopher's face glowed with excitement. To think he had actually beheld two such desperate characters and given evidence against them! If he had only spoken sooner and helped to capture them!

Something of this regret probably shadowed his brow, for the inspector added:

"They would have managed their get-away even had you given the alarm, son. Both were doubtless well armed and prepared to make their escape. Taken by surprise, as you clerks all were, no one could have stopped them. They would have shot any person who obstructed their dash for liberty."

"Do you think so?" Poor Hollings drew a breath of relief.

"I know it. They've done it before. They had their pistols and a waiting motor car, and had no mind to be caught."

"Then if I'd yelled from the balcony—"

"It would have done no good and would, perhaps, have done much harm instead. You would merely have furnished an alarm on which they would instantly have acted. As it is, we know them, and our nets are out. I would, however, like to take your son down to headquarters, Mr. Burton, and let him look over our photographs just to see if he can pick these winners from the bunch."

"Certainly, sir. Certainly! Get your hat and coat, Christopher. I believe I'll go along too, Mr. Inspector, if you are willing. My son and I were just starting out to lunch."

"By all means; I have a car here."

"I don't suppose I could persuade you to—"

"No, thank you, Mr. Burton. I'm up to my ears in business, sir. However, you are very kind. I must get right back to headquarters as fast as I can."

"I see."

"This is a detailed description of the ring, is it?" continued he, tapping an envelope he held in his hand. "Size of the diamonds, their weight, the complete record?"

"Yes."

"Good. I guess that's all we need."

"Do you think you will be able to—"

"To land the jewels, you mean? I can't tell you that, sir. It's too early in the game."

"I suppose so. It was a foolish question."

Evidently the inspector was of the same opinion, for he made no answer.

"Well, that's all, Hollings," announced the great man, turning to his clerk. "You may go now."

"I hope and pray the ring may be recovered, sir. I shall not have a happy moment until it is."

"All that must rest with the police. The case is in their keeping now," was his employer's terse reply.

In the meantime, Mr. Norcross had not said anything at all. He seldom did say anything. But as the group rose to depart, he dragged himself up out of his chair and, as if giving his blessing to the enterprise, remarked:

"Good luck to you, Inspector!"

"Thank you, sir."

Then Christopher, his father and the Chief entered the elevator and afterward the car that took them to headquarters.

Here the boy had displayed before him an array of photographs from which he had not the slightest trouble in picking that of the man with the scar; but his sharp-nosed companion he was unable to identify.

"I thought I'd recognize him anywhere," lamented Christopher. "His hair was so black and thick that—"

At the words, the inspector jumped a little.

"Ha!" exclaimed he. "Tony wore a wig, did he?" He opened a drawer. "Any of these look like him?"

He passed to Christopher a handful of pictures.

"There he is," cried the lad presently, choosing one out of the lot. "There he is! Only he didn't have his glasses on."

"I fancy he isn't dependent on them all the time," chuckled the inspector. "Well done, my boy. Yes, that's Tony when he's dressed up. The reason you didn't recognize him was because in the other picture he wasn't. Clothes do not make the man, but wigs, glasses, and things change him a good deal. That's all, gentlemen. I now have all the information I wish, and need not detain you."

"I suppose I shall be notified when any news is obtained," said Mr. Burton, rising. He wasn't used to being dismissed in this curt fashion. When any dismissing was to be done, it was usually he who did it.

"Yes, sir. As soon as anything definite is known. Good morning!" But to Christopher he reached out a detaining hand. "You've done uncommonly well, sonny," he whispered. "Don't worry because you didn't land the chaps. I'm only thankful you didn't give them the chance to shoot you. We'll have the birdies yet."

"Shall I have to go to court?"

"Court? Perhaps. But, Lord! A boy that can tell as straight a story as you needn't fear that. It's not half as bad as being stood up to face me."

"I didn't mind you at all."

"I'm glad of that. I don't want my job to turn me into an ogre. There are people who don't feel that way about me." He laughed slyly. "Don't you fret about being haled into court. Several persons besides ourselves wish to meet those two distinguished gentlemen we are after. When we get them they will have to be shipped to Chicago and various other cities. You stand a slim chance of having any very extensive acquaintance with them."

The voice of Mr. Burton, who was loitering impatiently outside, was now heard calling:

"Christopher! Christopher!"

"That's your dad. He's getting tired of cooling his heels in the corridor. He isn't used to it. Better trot along, sonny. Somebody might mistake him for a questionable character and run him in."

The inspector's hearty "Haw, haw!" lent to his laughter the suspicion that he found something intensely humorous about Mr. Christopher Mark Antony Burton, third, senior partner of the firm of Burton and Norcross.