At once I knew that some startling incident had happened.

Dr. Sladen, called by the police, entered the room a few moments afterwards, whereupon I turned to him, and in order to allay any undue curiosity, said—

"My man has been taken ill, doctor. Exhaustion, I suppose. He's a great walker, and, unknown to me, has apparently been out for a night ramble."

"Ah, yes," answered the quiet, old-fashioned medical man, peering at the invalid through his glasses.

Slowly he took Rayner's pulse, and then said—

"Heart a little weak, I suppose. There's nothing really wrong—eh?"

"I think not. He was talking to me only a few moments ago, and then suddenly fainted. Been on a long ramble, I should think."

"At night, eh?" asked the doctor in some surprise.

"It is a habit of his to walk at night. He does the same thing in London—walks miles and miles."

We dashed cold water into Rayner's face, gave him a smelling-bottle belonging to one of the maids, and very soon he came round again, opening his eyes in wonder at his surroundings.

"Here's Doctor Sladen," I said. "You feel better now, don't you, Rayner?"

"Yes, sir," was his feeble reply.

"Ah, you've been on one of your night rambles again," I said reprovingly. "You over-do it, you know."

Then Sladen asked him a few questions, and finding that he had recovered, shook my hand and left.

The instant the door was closed upon the doctor Rayner sat up, and with a serious expression upon his face said—

"Something has happened, sir. I don't know what. I'll tell you all I know. I went up to the railway arch as you directed, and lay down in the hedge to wait. After a long time the foreigner from the Overstrand Road came along, lit a cigar, and waited. He was wearing an overcoat, and I suppose he must have waited a full half-hour, until, at last, the cyclist came. They had a brief talk. Then the cyclist left his cycle about fifty yards from where I was in hiding, and both men set off towards the town. I, of course, followed at a decent distance, and they didn't hear me because of the rubber soles on my boots."

"Well, what then?" I inquired impatiently.

"They separated just against the Albion, and then followed one another past the church, and to the left, behind this hotel, and along to the house where the dead man lived—the house you pointed out to me. Close by they met another man who, in the darkness, I took to be a chauffeur. But I had, then, to draw back into a doorway to watch their movements. The chap I took to be a chauffeur, after a few words with the two foreigners, came along in my direction, and passed within a yard of me, when of a sudden he turned and faced me. 'What are you doing here?' he asked quickly. 'Nothing,' was my reply. 'Then take that for your inquisitiveness,' he said, and in a second I felt something over both my nose and mouth. It was only for a second, but I recollect I smelt a strong smell of almonds; and then I knew no more, nothing until I found myself here."

"That's most extraordinary!" I exclaimed. "Then you don't know what became of the three men?"

"Not in the least, sir," Rayner replied. "I was so thoroughly taken aback, that I must have gone down like a log."

"Then, that's all you know?"

"Yes, sir."

Scarcely had he finished relating his strange adventure than Inspector Treeton entered, and greeting me, explained how Rayner had been found by a constable, lying senseless, about three miles out of the town on the road to Holt.

By that I knew he must have been conveyed there, probably by a motor-car, driven by the chauffeur who had so mysteriously attacked him, apparently at the foreigners' orders. It was Jeanjean's work, no doubt. The Frenchman had seemingly eyes at the back of his head, and had evidently detected that his actions were being spied upon.

To the police inspector I made no mystery of the affair, merely replying, as I had to the doctor, that my manservant was in the habit of taking long walks, long nocturnal rambles, and that he evidently had overdone it.

"Doctor Sladen has already been here and seen him," I added. "He says he's quite right again."

This satisfied the highly-esteemed local inspector, and presently he left us, expressing the hope that Rayner would very soon be himself once more.

"Well," I said to my man when the inspector had gone, "it's evident that while you were unconscious they picked you up, put you in the car, and tipped you out upon the road outside the town. Perhaps they believed you to be dead."

"Like enough, sir," he said, smiling grimly.

"They evidently trapped you, Rayner," I said, laughing. "You were not sharp enough."

"But, who'd have thought that the fellow could have come straight for me, and rendered me insensible in a tick—as he did?" asked my man as he lay, still extended on the bed, a dirty, dishevelled figure. "I know I was caught, sir; those men were cleverer than I was, I admit."

"Yes, Rayner," was my reply. "I don't blame you in the least. I'm only glad that your plight isn't worse. The men had a motor-car, it seems, at their disposal somewhere, and they went in the direction of Holt."

"That appears so, sir."

"Why, I wonder? Bertini probably obtained his machine and followed the car. They must have gone either through Wells and Fakenham, or East Dereham."

"Back to Norwich, perhaps, sir. All roads from here seem to lead to Norwich."

"But you say the incident happened close to Beacon House, where old Gregory lived—eh?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then they objected to you being present. Evidently something was intended and you prevented it."

"No. Perhaps I didn't prevent it. They prevented me instead."

Rayner was a bit of a humorist.

"Quite likely," I answered, smiling. But I was full of chagrin that I had been out all night, waiting on that lonely road, while that mysterious affair had been in progress.

"Well, at any rate, Rayner, you've had a very funny experience," I said, with a laugh.

"And not the first, sir, eh?" he replied, stretching lazily on the bed. "Do you recollect that funny case at Pegli, just outside Genoa? My word, those two assassins nearly did me in that night, sir."

"And three nights later we gave them over to agents of the Department of Public Security," I said. "Yes, Rayner, you had a tough half-hour, I know. But you're an adventurer, like myself. As long as we solve a mystery we don't regret the peril, or the adventure, do we?"

"No, sir. I don't—as long as you give a guiding eye over it. But I tell you straight, sir, I don't like detectives. They're chumps, most of 'em."

"No. Don't condemn them," I said. "Rather condemn the blind and silly police system of England. The man who snares a rabbit gets a conviction recorded against him, while the shark in the city pays toll to the Party and becomes a Baronet. I'm no socialist," I added, "but I believe in honesty in our daily life. Honesty in man, and modesty in woman, are the two ideals we should always retain, even in this age of degeneracy and irreligion."

"I think the local police are blundering the whole of this affair," Rayner went on. "Yet I can't make out by what means I was so suddenly put out of action. That curious, strong smell of almonds puzzles me. It's in my nostrils now."

"Your fancy, I expect," I said.

At that moment came a knock at the door, and the tall young constable entered, the same man who had been on duty when I had gone up to inspect the seat where Craig's body had been found.

"The Inspector has sent me, sir," he exclaimed, saluting, "to say he'd like to see you at once. He's just along the West Cliff—at Beacon House, where Mr. Craig lived in."

"Certainly," I replied. "Tell him I will come at once."

The constable disappeared, and turning to Rayner, I said: "I wonder why Treeton wishes to see me in such a hurry? What has happened now?" Then, promising to return quickly, I went out.

At Beacon House, I found Treeton standing in the front sitting-room, on the ground-floor, talking seriously with the landlady.

"Hulloa! Mr. Vidal," he exclaimed as I entered. "Something more has occurred in this house during the night. The place has been broken into by burglars, who've got clean away with all old Mr. Gregory's collection of jewellery."

"Burglary," I repeated slowly; and then all that Rayner had told me flashed across my mind. I saw the reason for Jeanjean and his mysterious cyclist companion being near the house, and also why Rayner, on being detected, had been rendered senseless.

"Have you found any trace of the thieves?" I asked, having already decided to keep my own information to myself.

"Lots of traces," laughed Treeton. "Come and see for yourself."

We ascended the stairs, followed by the excited landlady and her husband.

"This is really terrible," moaned the woman. "I wish we'd never set eyes upon the poor young man and his uncle. We heard nothing in the night, nothing. In fact, I didn't discover that the room had been opened until an hour ago, when I was sweeping down the stairs. Then I noticed that the seals placed upon it had been broken, and the lock sawn right out. Why we didn't hear them, I can't think!"

"Ah, you don't hear much when the modern burglar is at work," declared Treeton. "They're far too scientific for that."

He showed me the door, from which the lock had been cut away, saying—

"They evidently got in by the window of the room downstairs, where we've just been, for it was found closed but not latched. They came up these stairs, cut out the lock, as you see—and look at that!" he added as we entered the old man's room.

The strong old sea-chest stood in the centre of the room. The lid, which had been nailed down, and sealed by the police, had been wrenched off and the box stood empty!

"Look!" cried Treeton again. "Every scrap gone—and it must have been a pretty bulky lot—a couple, or even three, sacksful at the least."

I went to the two windows which overlooked the narrow street behind, and examining the sills, saw marks where the paint had recently been rubbed away.

"Yes, I see," I remarked, "and they lowered the plunder to confederates outside."

"But who could have known of the existence of the jewellery, here?" asked Treeton. "Only ourselves were aware of it. At the inquest all mention of it was carefully suppressed."

"Somebody, of course, must have talked, perhaps unthinkingly, about it, and the news got round to the thieves," remarked the landlord.

I remained silent. Had I not, from the first, marvelled that old Mr. Gregory should disappear and leave behind him that collection of valuables?

"I've wired to Norwich, to Frayne, to come over at once, and see if he can find any finger-prints," said the local inspector. "We've discovered something here which the burglars left behind. Look at this."

And from a corner of the room he picked up something and handed it to me.

It was a woman's little, patent leather walking-shoe, with two white pearl buttons as fastening. The size I judged to be threes, but, as it was still fastened, it must have been too large for the wearer, who apparently having dropped it, was unable for some reason to regain it, and so left it behind.

"That's very strange!" I said, turning the little shoe over in my hand. It was not much worn, and of very good quality. "A woman has evidently been here!"

"Evidently, Mr. Vidal," replied the officer. "But surely a woman would never have the pluck to do a job of this sort. Nine people slept in this house last night and never heard a sound."

Truth to tell, I did not expect they would have done, now that I knew the robbery had been engineered by Jules Jeanjean.

"Very remarkable—very," I declared. "Probably Frayne, when he takes the finger-prints, will find some clue," I added, laughing inwardly, for I knew that those who had committed that robbery were far too clever to leave behind any traces of their identity. Besides, to actually lower the booty down into a public street showed a daring spirit which one only finds in the most expert criminals.

I could not, however, account for the discovery of that little shoe. Had it really been lost—or had it been placed there in order to mystify and mislead the police?

The latter suggestion had, of course, never entered Treeton's head.

"I wonder," I said to him, "if you would allow me to take this shoe along to the hotel? I want to take the exact measurements."

"Certainly, Mr. Vidal," was his reply. "You'll send it round to me, at the station, afterwards?"

"In an hour you shall have it," I promised him. Then I placed the shoe in my pocket, and made a tour of the room, touching nothing because of Frayne's coming hunt for finger-prints.

Jeanjean always wore gloves, skin-thin, rubber-gloves, which left no trace of his light touch. The curved lines of his thumb and forefinger were far too well known in Paris, in London, in Berlin and Rome, where the bureaux of detective police all possessed enlarged photographs of them.

Back in my room at the HÔtel de Paris, I took from a drawer the plaster cast of the woman's footprints I had found near the spot where Craig had been found.

Then, carrying it down to the shore near the pier, I made a print with the cast in the wet sand left hard by the receding tide.

Afterwards, I took the tiny, patent leather shoe from my pocket, and placed it carefully in the print.

It fitted exactly.