By this time the major, his daughter, and young Curzon Leake, full of deep and earnest solicitude for the long-erring Henry, and fairly bristling with questions and entreaties, had crossed the intervening space and were at Sir Mawson’s side; but as the details of what was said and done for the next ten minutes have no bearing upon the case in hand, they may well be omitted from these records. Suffice it then, that, on the plea of “having some very important business with these gentlemen, which will not permit of another moment’s delay,” and promising to “discuss the other matter later on,” Sir Mawson managed to get rid of them, with the story of the lost necklace still unconfessed, and was again free to return to the subject in hand.

“Of course, I can understand your reluctance, with those Indian chaps about, to take anybody into your confidence regarding the loss of the jewel, Sir Mawson,” said Cleek, as soon as the others were well out of hearing; “but sometimes a policy of silence is wise, and sometimes it is a mistake. For instance: if any of a man’s servants should know of a circumstance which might have a bearing upon a robbery they are not likely to mention it if they don’t even know that a robbery has been committed. However, we shall know more about that after I’ve been over the ground and poked about a bit. So, if you and her ladyship will be so kind, I should like to have a look indoors, particularly in Lady Leake’s boudoir, as soon as possible.”

Upon what trivial circumstances do great events sometimes hinge! Speaking, he turned toward the curve of the road to go back to the guarded gates of the house which he had so recently passed, when Lady Leake’s hand plucked nervously at his sleeve.

“Not that way! Not for worlds, with those Hindus on the watch!” she exclaimed agitatedly. “Heaven knows what they might suspect, what word they might send to the Ranee’s steward, if they saw us returning to the house without having seen us leave it. Come! there is another and a safer way. Through the grounds and round to the door of the music room, at the back of the building. Follow me.”

They followed forthwith, and in another moment were taking that “other way” with her, pushing through a thick plantation, crossing a kitchen garden, cutting through an orchard, and walking rapidly along an arboured path, until they came at last to the final obstacle of all—a large rock garden—which barred their progress to the smooth, close-clipped lawn at whose far end the house itself stood. This rock garden, it was plain from the course she was taking, it was Lady Leake’s intention to skirt, but Cleek, noting that there was a path running through the middle of it, pointed out that fact.

“One moment!” he said. “As time is of importance, would not this be the shorter and the quicker way?”

“Yes,” she gave back, without, however, stopping in her progress around the tall rocks which formed its boundary. “But if we took it we should be sure to meet Bevis. That is his especial playground, you know, and if he were to see his father and me we shouldn’t be able to get rid of him again. No! Don’t misunderstand, Mr. Cleek. I am not one of those mothers who find their children a nuisance in their nursery stage. Bevis is the dearest little man! But he is so full of pranks, so full of questions, so full of life and high spirits—and I couldn’t stand that this morning. Besides, he has no one to play with him to-day. This is Miss Miniver’s half holiday. Pardon? Yes—his nursery governess. She won’t be back until three. I only hope he will stay in the rock garden and amuse himself with his pirates’ cave until then.”

“His——”

“Pirates’ cave. Miss Miniver took him to a moving-picture show one day. He saw one there and nothing would do him but his father must let him have one for himself; so the gardeners made one for him in the rock garden and he amuses himself by going out on what he calls ‘treasure raids’ and carries his spoils in there.”

“His spoils, eh? H’m! I see! Pardon me, Lady Leake, but do you think it is possible that this affair we are on may be only a wild goose chase after all? In other words, that, not knowing the value of the Ranee’s necklace, your little son may have made that a part of his spoils and carried it off to his pirates’ cave?”

“No, Mr. Cleek, I do not. Such a thing is utterly impossible. For one thing, the boudoir door was locked, remember; and, for another, Bevis had been bathed and put to bed before the necklace was lost. He could not have got up and left his room, as Miss Miniver sat with him until he fell asleep.”

“H’m!” commented Cleek. “So that’s ‘barking up the wrong tree’ for a second time. Still, of course, the necklace couldn’t have vanished of its own accord. Hum-m-m! Just so! Another question, your ladyship: You spoke of running down to the foot of the stairs with the lint for Miss Eastman and running back in a panic when you remembered the necklace. How, then, did you get the lint to Miss Eastman, after all?”

“I sent it to her with apologies for not being able to do the bandaging for her.”

“Sent it to her, your ladyship? By whom?”

“Jennifer—one of the servants.”

“Oho!” said Cleek, in two different tones. “So then you did unlock the door of your boudoir for a second time, and somebody other than Sir Mawson and your stepson did see the inside of the room, eh?”

“Your pardon, Mr. Cleek, but you are wrong in both surmises. Jennifer was the servant who was working in the lower hall at the time—the one who says he saw Henry leave the house at ten minutes past seven. The instant I reached the foot of the stairs and thought of the necklace, I called Jennifer to me, gave him the lint with orders to take it at once to Miss Eastman’s maid with the message mentioned, and then turned round and ran back to my boudoir immediately.”

“H’m! I see. I suppose, your ladyship, it isn’t possible that this man Jennifer might, in going to carry that message——But no! I recollect: the door of your boudoir was locked. So even if he had managed to outstrip you by going up another staircase——”

“Oh, I see what you mean!” she declared, as they reached the edge of the lawn and set out across it. “But, Mr. Cleek, such a thing would not bear even hinting at, so far as Jennifer is concerned. He is the soul of honesty, for one thing; and, for another, he couldn’t have outstripped me, as you put it, had I returned at a snail’s pace. He is very old, and near-sighted. There! look! That is he, over there, sweeping the leaves off the terrace. You can see for yourself how impossible it would be for him to run upstairs.”

Cleek did see. Looking in the direction indicated, he saw an elderly man employed as stated, whose back was bowed, and whose limping gait betokened an injury which had left him hopelessly lame.

“His leg had to be amputated as the result of being run over by an omnibus in the streets of London,” explained her ladyship, “and, in consequence, he wears a wooden one. He has been in the employ of the family for more than forty years. Originally he was a gardener, and, after his accident, Sir Mawson was for pensioning him off so that he could end his days in quiet and comfort. But he quite broke down at the thought of leaving the old place, and as he wouldn’t listen to such a thing as being paid for doing nothing, we humoured his whim and let him stay on as a sort of handy man. I am sorry to say that Bevis, little rogue, takes advantage of his inability to run, and plays no end of pranks upon him. But he adores the boy, and never complains.”

Cleek, who had been studying the man fixedly with his narrowed eyes—and remembering what had been said of Diamond Nick’s skill at impersonation, the while they were crossing the lawn—here twitched his head, as if casting off a thought which annoyed him, and turned a bland look upon Lady Leake.

“One last question, your ladyship,” he said. “I think you said that Jennifer was cleaning the hall at the time your stepson left the house; and, as, presumably, you wouldn’t overwork a crippled old chap like that, how happened it that he was still at his labours at ten minutes past seven o’clock in the evening? That’s rather late to be cleaning up a hall, isn’t it?”

“Yes, much too late,” she acknowledged. “But it couldn’t be helped in the present instance. The gasfitters didn’t finish their work as early as we had hoped, and as he couldn’t begin until they had finished, he was delayed in starting.”

“The gasfitters, eh? Oho! So you had those chaps in the house yesterday, did you?”

“Yes. There had been an unpleasant leakage of gas in both the music room and the main hall, for two or three days, and as the men had to take down the fixtures to get to the seat of the trouble, Jennifer improved the opportunity to give the chandelier and the brackets a thorough cleaning, since he couldn’t of course start to clear up the mess the workmen made until after they had finished and gone. But—Mr. Cleek! They couldn’t have had anything to do with the affair, for they left the house at least ten minutes before the Ladder of Light came into it. So, naturally——This is the door of the music room, gentlemen. Come in, please.”

The invitation was accepted at once, and in another half minute Cleek and Mr. Narkom found themselves standing in a wonderful white-and-gold room, under a huge crystal chandelier of silver and cut glass, and looking out through an arched opening, hung with sulphur-coloured draperies, into a sort of baronial hall equipped with armour and tapestries, and broad enough to drive a coach through without danger to its contents.

From this hall, as they discovered, when Lady Leake led them without delay toward the scene of the necklace’s mysterious vanishment, a broad, short flight of richly carpeted stairs led to a square landing, and thence another and a longer flight, striking off at right angles, communicated with the passage upon which her ladyship’s boudoir opened.

“It was here that I stood, Mr. Cleek, when I recollected about the necklace as I called Jennifer to me,” she explained, pausing on the landing at the foot of this latter flight of stairs just long enough to let him note, over the broad rail of the banister, that the great hall was clearly visible below. “He was there, just under you, drying the globes of the music-room chandelier when I called to him. Now come this way, please, and you will see how impossible it is for any one to have entered and left the boudoir during my brief absence without my seeing or hearing.”

It was; for the door of the boudoir, which was entirely detached from the rest of the suite occupied by herself and her husband, was immediately opposite the head of the staircase and clearly visible from the landing at its foot.

She unlocked this one solitary door, and let them see that the only other means of possibly entering the room was by way of a large overhanging bay window overlooking the grounds. But this was a good twenty feet above the surface of the earth and there was not a vine nor a tree within yards and yards of it, and as the space beneath was so large and clear that no one could have manipulated a ladder without the certainty of discovery, Cleek saw at a glance that the window might be dismissed at once as a possible point of entry.

Nor did anything else about the room offer a hint more promising. All that he saw was just what one might have expected to see in such a place under such circumstances as these.

On the dressing-table, surrounded by a litter of silver and cut-glass toilet articles, lay the case which had once contained the famous necklace, wide open and empty. Over the back of a chair—as if it had been thrown there under the stress of haste and great excitement—hung a negligÉe of flowered white silk trimmed with cascades of rich lace, and across a sofa at the far end of the room, a dinner gown of gray satin was carefully spread out, with a pair of gray silk stockings and gray satin slippers lying beside it.

“Everything is exactly as it was, Mr. Cleek, at the time the necklace disappeared,” explained her ladyship, noting the manner in which his glances went flickering about the room, skimming the surface of all things but settling on none. “Everything, that is, but that negligÉe there.”

“Wasn’t that in the room, then?”

“Oh, yes, but it wasn’t on the chair; it was on me. I had come up to dress for dinner a short time before Henry made his appearance—indeed, I had only just taken off my street costume and started to dress when he rapped at the door and implored me to let him come in and speak to me for a minute or two. ‘For God’s sake, mater!’ was the way he put it, and as haste seemed to be of vital importance, I slipped on my negligÉe and let him in as quickly as I could. Afterward, when Sir Mawson came in with the wonderful necklace——”

She stopped abruptly, and her voice seemed to die away in her throat; and when she spoke again it was in a sort of panic.

“Mr. Cleek!” she cried, “Mr. Cleek! What is it? What’s the matter? Good heavens, Mawson, has the man gone out of his mind?”

In the circumstances the question was an excusable one. A moment before, she had seen Cleek walk in the most casual manner to the chair where the lace-clouded negligÉe hung, had seen him pick it up to look at the chair seat under it, and was collectedly proceeding with the account of the events of yesterday, when, without hint or warning, he suddenly yapped out a sound that was curiously like a dog that had mastered the trick of human laughter, flung the negligÉe from him, dropped on his knees, and was now careering round the room like a terrier endeavouring to pick up a lost scent—pushing aside tables, throwing over chairs, and yapping, yapping.

“Cleek, old chap!” It was Narkom that spoke, and the hard, thick hammering of his heart made his voice shake. “Good lud, man! in the name of all that’s wonderful——”

“Let me alone!” he bit in, irritably. “Of all the asses! Of all the blind, mutton-headed idiots!” then laughed that curious, uncanny laugh again, scrambled to his feet and made a headlong bolt for the door. “Wait for me—all of you—in the music room,” he threw back from the threshold. “Don’t stir from it until I come. I want that fellow Jennifer! I want him at once!”

And here, turning sharply on his heel with yet another yapping sound, he bolted across the passage, ran down the staircase like an escaping thief, and by the time the others could lock up the boudoir and get down to the music room, there wasn’t a trace of him anywhere.