It was a full minute later and in all that minute’s length no one had spoken, no one had made a single sound.

The shock, the shame, of such a confession, telling, as it did, why he had attempted to destroy himself, had crumpled the man up, taken all the vitality out of him. He faced round and leaned his bent arm against the wall of the stable, hid his face in the crook of it, and Cleek, pitying him, let him have that minute all to himself. Then:

“Come,” he said, very gently, going over to him and patting him on the shoulder. “Buck up! Buck up! There’s nothing in all the world so deceptive as appearances, Sir Mawson; perhaps, when I’ve heard the facts——Well, haven’t I told you that I am out for a pair of expert jewel thieves, and that that necklace is just the sort of thing they’d be likely to make play for? How do you know, then, that they didn’t?”

“I wish I could believe that, I wish I could even hope it,” he gave back miserably. “But you don’t know the facts, Mr. Cleek.”

“To be sure I don’t; and they’re what I’m after. Let’s have them, please. To begin with, how came the Ladder of Light to be in your possession at all?”

“It was brought to me yesterday—for repairing—by the Ranee’s own major domo. Not a mere cice, Mr. Cleek, but the most trusted of all her henchmen. Three of the narrow gold links which hold the stones together had worn thin and needed strengthening. It was four o’clock in the afternoon when he arrived, and the Ranee, he said, had selected our house for the work on the recommendation of royalty. There was several hours’ work on the thing—I saw that the instant I examined it. But I was appalled by the fearful responsibility of having a jewel of such fabulous value on the premises—with people constantly coming in and going out—and determined, therefore, to take it home and do the repairs myself. I informed the Ranee’s major domo of that resolution, and demanded of him a guard of the Ranee’s own attendants to accompany me on the journey and to keep watch over my house until he should come in person to receive the necklace to-day.

“He accorded me this willingly; departed—still retaining possession of the jewel, for I would not have it left with me at any cost—returned with the guard an hour later, handed me the case containing the necklace, and I left for home a few minutes after five—and the Hindu guard with me. On arriving——”

“One moment, please,” interposed Cleek. “Did you examine the case to see if the Ladder of Light was still there before you started?”

“Yes, Mr. Cleek. I have no very great faith in Hindus at any time, so you may be sure I took that precaution the instant the man placed the case in my hands. The necklace was there. I even went further. Before leaving my place of business I submitted the stones to chemical test to be sure that no substitution had been made. They were absolutely genuine; so that there can be no shadow of doubt that it was the Ladder of Light itself I carried home with me. On arriving at my residence I stationed the two Hindu guards at the front gate, entered the house, and was upon the point of going immediately to my study to subject the stones to yet another chemical test—to make sure that no trickery had been practised upon me by the Hindus on the journey—when I was unexpectedly pounced upon in the main hallway by my son, Henry, who was in a greatly excited state and attempted to renew the subject of our unpleasant interview of the day before.”

Here Sir Mawson’s voice grew curiously thick and unsteady. He paused a moment as if ashamed to go on, then stiffened himself and continued.

“Mr. Cleek,” he said, agitatedly, “it is necessary that I should tell you, at this point, something with regard to those who make up the members of my household.”

“You needn’t. I have already heard. Lady Leake is, I believe, your second wife, and you have two sons.”

“No—three,” he corrected. “Henry, my eldest, who is twenty-four and is the only survivor of the children of my first and most unhappy marriage; Curzon, who is just entering his twenty-first year, and Bevis, who has not yet turned seven, and is, of course, still in the nursery. I may as well admit to you, Mr. Cleek, that my first marriage was a failure; that it was none of my own choosing, but was consummated in deference to the will and wishes of my parents. We were utterly unsuited to each other, my first wife and I, and it is, no doubt, only natural that the son she left me when death delivered us both from an irksome bondage should reflect in himself some of those points of difference which made our union a mistake.

“Don’t misunderstand me, however. He is very dear to me—dear, too, to his stepmother, who loves him as her own, and the one strong feature in his character is the love he gives her in return. Then, too, he is my first born, my heir, and no man fails to love that first child that ever called him father.”

“No man could fail to love this particular one at all events, Mr. Cleek,” put in her ladyship. “Wild, reckless, extravagant—yes! But at heart, the dearest boy!”

“Just so!” interposed Cleek. “But let us get on, please. So this ‘dearest boy’ had an unpleasant interview with you the day before yesterday, did he, Sir Mawson? What was it about?”

“The usual thing—money. He is extravagant to the point of insanity. I’ve paid his debts until my patience is quite worn out, hoping against hope that he will reform. At that interview, however, he asked for a thing I would not listen to—£200 to settle a gambling debt at his club: to take up an I.O.U. that would get him blacklisted as a defaulter if it were not met. ‘Then get blacklisted!’ I said to him, ‘if there’s no other way to cut you off from the worthless lot you associate yourself with. You’ll not get one farthing from me to settle any such disgraceful thing as a gambling debt, rest assured of that!’ Then I walked out of the room and left him, and that was the last I saw of him until he pounced upon me in the hall yesterday when I was going to my study with the case containing the Ranee’s necklace.

“That was the subject he wanted to renew. He’d been to town, he said, and had had a talk with the man to whom he had given the I.O.U., ‘and dad, if you’ll only do it just this once—just this one last once!’ he was saying when I interrupted him. ‘I’ve no time to listen now, and no inclination. I’ve important business to attend to,’ I said, then waved him aside and went into the study and locked the door while I attended to the matter of applying the acid test to the diamonds for the second time.

“Meanwhile, he had gone up to Lady Leake’s boudoir to implore her to use her influence with me, and he was still there when, after the stones had again answered to the acid test, I carried the necklace up there (to leave it in her charge for the brief time it would take me to prepare the tools and materials for the work in hand) and told her all about it. But I didn’t know that at the time, Mr. Cleek, for he was sitting in a deep, cushioned armchair at the far end of the room, and the tall back of that chair was turned toward me. Indeed, I hadn’t the faintest suspicion that there was anybody but Lady Leake and myself in the room until he got up suddenly and said, ‘Dad, you aren’t too busy to listen now! Won’t you let me ask you what I was going to do downstairs? Won’t you, dad? Please!’

“Of course he had heard what I had said, Mr. Cleek—although I never gave a thought to that at the time—and as Lady Leake had, womanlike, taken the gorgeous necklace out of the case, held it up to her neck and was then viewing herself in her dressing mirror, it followed that he also saw. But how could I dream of there being anything in that to regret, and he a son of mine? It was only—afterward—when it came back to my memory——Good God! it is too horrible to think of even now, much less to talk about!”

“Steady, steady, Sir Mawson!” sounded Cleek’s soothing voice. “Brakes on! Sidetrack your emotions if you can and stick to the mainline! Well, what followed?”

“I have no very clear recollection, Mr. Cleek, for just then Lady Leake chose to add her entreaties to his, and to ask me if I would permit her to draw her next quarter’s pin money in advance and let her take up the I.O.U. for him. But I was so furious at the thought of his skulking in like a beggar and a cad, and trying to ‘bleed’ her, that I flew into a violent rage, ordered him out of the room instantly, and forbade his stepmother to lend or give him one farthing either then or at any time thereafter. ‘There will be no gambler’s I.O.U.’s taken up for you by anybody in this house,’ I flung at him. ‘If you are in debt, get out of it in your own way and as best you can!’

“I think that even then I was conscious of a sense of gratification at the way he took that ultimatum, Mr. Cleek, for instead of whining like a whipped cur, he pulled himself up straight and strong, clicked his heels together, and said very quietly, ‘All right, sir, I’ll take you at your word. Thank you for past favours. Good-bye!’ and then walked out of the room. That was the last I have seen or heard of him.”

“H’m! Leave the house, did he?”

“Yes—but not then. That was a few minutes before seven. A servant saw him on the top landing coming out of his own room with something wrapped up in a parcel, after that. And another, who was busy cleaning up in the lower hall, saw him come down and go out at ten minutes past.”

“And in the meantime, the Ladder of Light had vanished?”

“Yes. After Henry had left the boudoir I had a few minutes’ heated argument with Lady Leake; then, remembering the work I had in hand, I left the necklace in her charge and hurried away to rig up a temporary workshop. It was about twenty minutes past seven when I finished doing that, and went back to Lady Leake’s boudoir to get the jewel. I found her in a state of the wildest excitement, flying about the room like an insane woman and searching everywhere. The necklace was gone! Only for one single minute of time had it been out of her sight, yet in that minute it had vanished, utterly and completely, and there was not a trace of it to be found anywhere.”

“H’m! Just so! Case gone, too, Sir Mawson?”

“No! That was still there, lying on her dressing-table, but it was empty.”

“I see. So, then, it could not have been that that was wrapped up in the parcel your son was seen carrying. Anybody in that room after Sir Mawson left you, your ladyship?”

“Not a living soul, Mr. Cleek.”

“Could no one have stolen it without your knowledge?”

“That would be impossible. I locked the door the instant Sir Mawson left me.”“Ah, then, of course! Another question, please. Sir Mawson has spoken of there being ‘one single minute’ when the necklace was not directly under your eyes. When was that?”

“When I left the room, Mr. Cleek.”

“Oho! Then you did leave it, eh?”

“Yes. It was thoughtless of me, of course; but I only ran down to the foot of the staircase, when I remembered, and ran back in a perfect panic. Still I had locked the door in going out even then and the key was in my hand. It was still locked when I returned, but in that one single minute the necklace had disappeared. I was gratifying my woman’s vanity by holding it up to my throat and viewing myself in the glass just an instant before, and I remember perfectly, laying it down on the velvet lining of its open case at the time I recollected the matter which caused me to leave the room.”

“May I ask what that matter was?”

“Yes. A service I had promised to perform for Miss Eastman.”

“Miss Eastman? Who is she?”

“My son’s fiancÉe. She and her father are visiting us at present. Curzon met and became engaged to Miss Eastman on the occasion of her last visit to England, and this time her father is accompanying her.”

“Her last visit? Then the lady and her father are not English?”

“Oh, dear, no—Americans. They came over less than a week ago. Pardon? No, I do not at the moment recall the name of the vessel, Mr. Cleek, but whichever one it was it seems to have been a very ill-conditioned affair and gave them a very bad crossing, indeed. That is why I had to render Miss Eastman the service of which I spoke—the sudden recollection of which caused me to lay down the necklace and hurry from the room. I had forgotten all about it until I happened to see the roll of lint on my dressing-table.”

“Lint, Lady Leake? What on earth had lint to do with the matter?”

“I had bought it for Miss Eastman when I was in town this morning. She asked me to, as she had used her last clean bandage yesterday. She had a very bad fall on shipboard, Mr. Cleek, and injured her left hand severely!”

Narkom made a curious sort of gulping sound, whipped out his handkerchief and began to dab his bald spot, and looked round at Cleek out of the tail of his eye. But Cleek neither moved nor spoke nor made any sign—merely pushed his lower lip out over his upper one and stood frowning at the stable door.

And here—just here—a strange and even startling thing occurred. With just one hoarse “Toot-toot!” to give warning of its coming, a public taxi swung round the curve of the road, jerked itself up to a sudden standstill within a rope’s cast of the spot where the four were standing, and immediately there rang forth a rollicking, happy youthful voice crying out, as the owner of it stood up and touched an upright forefinger to his numbered cap, in jolly mimicry of the Hanson cabman of other days: “Keb, sir? Keb, mum? Keb! Keb!” and hard on the heels of that flung out a laughing, “Hullo, mater? Hullo, dad? you dear old Thunder Box! I say! ‘How does this sort of thing get you?’ as Katie Eastman says. Buttons all over me, like a blooming Bobby! What?”

And it needed no more than that to assure Cleek and Mr. Narkom that in the bright-eyed, bonny-faced, laughing young fellow who jumped down from the driver’s seat at this, and stood up straight and strong, and displayed his taxicabman’s livery unabashed and unashamed, they were looking upon Sir Mawson Leake’s eldest son and—heir!

“Henry!” The voice was Lady Leake’s, and there was pain and surprise and joy and terror all jumbled up in it curiously, as she ran to him. “Henry! Is it really you?”

“‘Sure thing!’—to quote Katie again. Just took a spin over to show myself off. Plenty of brass trimmings! What? I thought, dad, you’d like to be sure that I really am done with the clubs at last. Not because they blacklisted me—for they didn’t—but because—oh well, you know. No taxicabmen need apply—that sort of thing. I’ll be invited to resign from every blessed one of them to-morrow, and there’s not a chap connected with any one of ’em who’d be seen taking a match from me to light his cigarette with after this. All the same, though, I go out of them with a clean slate, and that’s all I cared about. I did get that two hundred after all, pater. Curzon and Katie raised it for me between them—out of their own private accounts, you know—and as driving a car is the only thing I really do understand, I’m earning the money to pay them back this way.”

“That’s the stuff, by Jupiter! That’s the stuff!” rapped out Cleek, impulsively. “You ought to have known from the first, Sir Mawson, that they don’t make thieves of this sort of material?”

“Thieves? What do you mean by thieves? And who the dickens are you, anyway? I say, dad, who’s this johnnie? What’s he driving at? What does he mean by talking about thieves?”

“The necklace—the Ranee’s necklace! The Ladder of Light!” bleated Sir Mawson feebly. “It is gone! It is lost! It went when you went. There has been no trace of it since.” Then he joined Lady Leake, and plucked at the boy’s sleeve, and between them out came the whole miserable story.

“And you think that I stole it? You dare to think that?” flung out his son, jerking back from him and brushing aside Lady Leake’s solicitous hand. “Very well, then, think what you jolly well please! I’m done with the lot of you!”

And after that—the Deluge! Speaking, he turned on his heel and rushed back to his taxi, wrenched open its door, revealing what none of them had suspected before, because of the drawn curtains: that the vehicle was occupied—and sang out in a fine fury, “Pull up the blinds, Curz. Come out, old chap. Come out, Major! Come out, Katie—all of you—at once! There isn’t going to be any ‘jolly lark,’ any ‘pleasant surprise,’ any ‘killing of the fatted calf.’ This isn’t a comedy—it’s a tragedy! Hop out lively—the lot of you! I’m done with my father, and I’ve got to get back to my place in the ranks as fast as I can fly. I’ll pay you back, Katie. I’ll pay you back, Curz, old chap! Yes, by God! I will if I drive this thing night and day without sleeping!”

Then came a sudden banging of the taxi’s door, a hoot from the horn as he jumped back to his seat and sounded a warning note, and in the winking of an eye he was off and away, and there in the road stood a stout, pleasant-faced old gentleman, a youth with a budding moustache, and a bright-faced, fairylike little lady of about eighteen, all three of whom were standing stock still and staring after the vanishing taxi in the blankest of blank amazement. Of a sudden, however:

“My goodness, popper, I guess Curzon and I have sort of muffed it somehow!” the little lady said, forlornly.

“I guess you have, honey—I guess you have. Anyhow, something’s gone bust, that’s a sure thing! Let’s go and ask Sir Mawson what it’s all about.”

“Yes, let us by all means,” put in the younger man. “Come on!”

Mr. Narkom, who heard these things, drew closer to Cleek, looked up at him anxiously, and contrived to whisper an inquiry which fell only upon his ally’s ears.“Found out anything, old chap?”

“Yes. From their words it is clear that Sir Mawson has taken nobody in the house—even his son, Curzon—into his confidence regarding the lost necklace.”

“I don’t mean that—I’m alluding to the others. Found out anything about them?”

“Yes, and a very important thing, too: They are not Diamond Nick and Dutch Ella. Not in the least like them, neither are they disguised. Also, Miss Eastman’s injury is only a sprained wrist, it appears. You observe she does not even attempt to cover the back of her hand. I’m afraid, Mr. Narkom, you’ve been barking up the wrong tree.”