Dessert was being placed upon the table when Bernard Megger went out to the telephone, and a fairly general conversation upon the all-absorbing topic had sprung up when he returned—pale, flabby—a stricken man!

"Vignoles!" he said hoarsely. "A word with you."

The host, who did not care for the society of Mr. Megger, rose in some surprise and stepped aside with his wife's guest.

"I am a ruined man!" said Megger. "My chambers have been entered and my safe rifled!"

"But——" began Vignoles, in bewilderment.

"You do not understand!" snapped the other, "and I cannot explain. It is SÉverac Bablon who has robbed me!"

"SÉverac Bablon?"

"Yes! I must be off at once and learn exactly what has happened. I shall call at Scotland Yard——"

"Ssh!" whispered Vignoles. "There is no need for that! The man speaking to Miss Oppner there is Detective-Inspector Pepys!"

"Detective-Inspector Pepys! But what——"

"Never mind now, Megger; he is—that's the point. I'll bring him into the billiard-room. No doubt he can arrange to accompany you."

Too perturbed in mind to wonder greatly at the presence of a police officer at Lord Vignoles' dinner-table, Bernard Megger strode hurriedly into the billiard-room, his obese body quivering with his suppressed emotions, and was almost immediately joined by his host, accompanied by Pepys. The latter began at once:

"I understand that your chambers have been burgled by SÉverac Bablon? By a curious instance of what literary critics term the long arm of coincidence I am in charge of the SÉverac Bablon case—I and Inspector Sheffield."

"Before we go any further," said Megger rudely, "I don't share your tomfool ideas about the rogue!"

"No?" replied Pepys blandly. "Well, never mind. You must not suppose that, because of them, I am any less anxious to apprehend my man. Tell me, when was the burglary committed?"

"While Simons, my servant, was out on an errand. He returned to find the safe open—and empty. He immediately rang me up here."

"I believe you have already communicated with Scotland Yard in regard to SÉverac Bablon?"

"Yes, I have. He has threatened me."

"In what form?"

"He endeavoured to extort money."

"By what means?"

Bernard Megger frowned, angrily. His flabby cheeks were twitching significantly.

"The point is," he said sharply, "that he has rifled my safe."

"Did it contain valuables?"

"Certainly."

"Diamonds?"

"It contained valuable papers."

"Where is the safe situated?"

"It is concealed, I thought securely, at the back of a bookcase. No one else holds a key. No one—not even my man—knows of its location. Curse SÉverac Bablon! How, in Heaven's name, has he discovered it? I thought it secure from the fiend himself!"

Detective-Inspector Pepys scratched his chin thoughtfully, and Bernard Megger seemed to experience some difficulty in meeting the disconcerting gaze of his eyes.

"Possibly," said the inspector slowly, "an examination of your chambers may afford a clue. With your permission, Lord Vignoles, we will start at once."

"Certainly," said Vignoles. "I fear I have no car in readiness, so someone shall call a cab."

He moved to the bell.

"What's that, Jerry?" came a musical American voice. "Someone want a lift?"

The three men looked towards the door and saw there Zoe Oppner, a bewitching picture in her motor-furs.

"I was coming to say good-night," she explained. "I'm off to pick up Pa. But I've got time to run as far as Brighton and back, say. Nearly half an hour anyway!"

"You will not be called upon to create that amazing record, Zoe," responded Lord Vignoles. "Inspector Pepys and Mr. Megger are merely proceeding to Victoria Street."

"Is it something exciting?" asked Zoe, her bright eyes glancing from one to another of the three.

"Very!" replied the inspector. "A robbery at Mr. Megger's chambers!"

"Come right along!" said Zoe. "I'm glad I didn't miss this!" And the odd trio departed forthwith.

"Can I come in?" she asked, with characteristic disregard of the conventional, as her luxuriously appointed car pulled up in Victoria Street.

"I should greatly prefer that you did not, Miss Oppner!" said Pepys quietly.

"That's unkind! Why mayn't I?"

"I have a reason, believe me. If you will carry out your original plan and go on to join Mr. Oppner, it will be better."

She met the gaze of his earnest eyes frankly.

"All right!" she agreed. "But will you come to the hotel to-morrow, Inspector, and tell me all about it?"

"If you will inform no one of the appointment and arrange to be alone—yes, at eleven o'clock!"

Zoe's big eyes opened widely.

"You are mysterious!" she said; "but I shall expect you at eleven o'clock!"

"I shall be punctual!"

With that he turned and passed quickly through the door behind Bernard Megger. Up the stairs he ran and reached the first floor in time to see the other entering his chambers.

"Simons!" cried Megger, loudly.

But there was no reply.

"He must have gone at once to Scotland Yard," said Pepys. "Where is the safe?"

Megger switched on the light and unlocked a door on his immediate left. It gave access to a study. In the dim glow of the green shaded lamps the place looked quiet and reposeful. Everything was neatly arranged, as befits the sanctum of a business man. Nothing seemed out of place.

"There are no signs of burglars here!" said Pepys, in a surprised manner.

"Simons may have reclosed the safe door," replied Megger.

His voice trembled slightly.

Wheeling a chair across the thick carpet, he placed it by a tall, unglazed bookcase and mounted upon the seat.

"The safe is not open," he muttered excitedly.

And the man watching him saw that his puffy hand shook like a leaf in the breeze.

Removing a small oil-painting from the wall adjoining, he tore at his collar and produced a key attached to a thin chain about his neck. This he inserted in the cunning lock which the picture served to conceal. The next moment a hoarse cry escaped him.

"It hasn't been opened at all!" he shouted.

Snatching at the cord of a hanging lamp, he wildly hurled books about the floor and directed the light into a cavity that now had revealed itself. The other observed him keenly.

"Are you certain nothing is gone?" he asked.

Megger plunged his hand inside and threw out several boxes and some bundles of legal-looking documents. Leaning yet farther forward, he touched a hidden spring that operated with a sharp click.

"That hasn't gone, Inspector!" he cried triumphantly, and held out a large envelope, sealed in several places.

His eyes were feverish. His features worked.

"You are wrong, Isaac Jacobsen!" rapped Pepys, and snatched the packet in a flash. "It has!"

The man on the chair lurched. Every speck of colour fled from his naturally florid face, leaving it a dull, neutral grey. He threw out one hand to steady himself, and with the other plunged to his hip.

"Both up!" ordered Pepys crisply.

And Mr. Bernard Megger found himself looking down a revolver barrel that pointed accurately between his twitching eyebrows, nor wavered one hair's breadth!

Unsteadily he raised his arms—staring, with dilated pupils, at this master of consummate craft.

"It is by such acts of fatuity as your careful preservation of these proofs of identity," came in ironic tones, "that all rogues are bowled out, Jacobsen! I will admit that you had them well hidden. It was good of you to find them. I had despaired of doing so myself!" With that the speaker backed towards the open door.

"Inspector Pepys!" gasped Bernard Megger, swallowing between the words, "I shall remember you!"

"You will be wasting grey matter!" replied the man addressed, and was gone.

Megger, dropping heavily into the chair, saw that the departing visitor had thrown a slip of pasteboard upon the carpet.

As the key turned in the lock, and the dim footsteps sounded upon the stair, he lurched unsteadily to his feet, and, stooping, picked up the card.

Simons, his man, returned half an hour later, having been detained in his favourite saloon by a chance acquaintance who had conceived a delirious passion for his society. He found his master locked in the study—with the key on the wrong side—and, furthermore, in the grip of apoplexy, with a crumpled visiting-card crushed in his clenched right hand.