“’Nk-you, sir.”

The man retired cheerfully, rewarded for many a night of broken slumber.  Prince Victor got up from the desk and proffered Lanyard the cheque.

“I fancy,” he said with a leer, “you’ll find that all right.”

Lanyard scrutinized the cheque minutely, nodded his satisfaction.

“Thanks ever so ...  No, not a word!” He forbade inflexibly a wholly imaginary interposition on the part of Prince Victor.  “You don’t know how to thank me—­do you?  Then why try?  I know I’m too good, but I really can’t help it, it’s my nature—­and there you are!  So what’s the good of bickering about it?...  Now where did you leave your coat and hat?  On my bed, as you came in?”

He smiled charmingly and darted through the portieres, returning with the articles in question.  “Do let me help you.”

The prince struggled into the coat and grunted an acknowledgment of the service.  Lanyard pressed the hat into his hand, picked up the canvas, replaced it in its frame, and tucked both under the princely arm.

Another knock:  Harris returned.

“The four-wheeler is w’iting, sir.”

“Thanks, Harris.  Half a moment:  I want a word with you.  You see this gentleman?” Lanyard caught Victor’s look of angry resentment and interrupted himself.  “Don’t forget yourself, monsieur le prince.  Remember ...”

He patted significantly the pocket which held the revolver, and turned back to Harris.

“This gentleman,” he said, consulting the signature to the cheque, “is Prince Victor Vassilyevski.  Please remember him.  You may have to bear witness against him in court.”

“What insolence is this?” Victor demanded, hotly.

“Calm yourself, monsieur le prince.”  Lanyard repeated the warning gesture.  “He is a nobleman of Russia, or says he is, and—­strangely enough, Harris!—­a burglar.  I caught him burglarizing my rooms when I came home just now.  You may judge from his appearance what difficulty I had in subduing him.”

“’E do seem fair used up, sir,” Harris admitted, eyeing Victor indignantly.  “Would you wish me to call a bobby and give ’im in charge?”

“Thanks, no.  Prince Victor and I have compromised.  He doesn’t relish going to jail, and I’ve no particular desire to send him there.  But he does want what he broke in to steal—­that painting you see under his arm—­and I’ve agreed to sell it to him.  Here’s the cheque he has just given me.  Providing payment is not stopped on it, Harris, you will hear no more of this incident.  But if by any chance the cheque should come back from his bank—­I may ask you to testify to what you have seen and heard here to-night.”

“It is a lie!” Prince Victor shrilled.  “You brought me in with you, assaulted me, blackmailed that cheque out of me!  Nobody saw us—­”

“Sorry,” Lanyard cut in; “but it so happens, that the gentleman who has the rooms immediately above came in when I did, and can testify that I was alone.  That’s all, monsieur le prince.  Your carriage waits.”