“But I am not convinced of it.  I have known such things to happen.  I presume there are other papers there.  Well, it may have got mixed with them.”

“It was on the top.”

“Someone may have shaken the box and displaced it.”

“No, no, I had everything out.”

“Surely it is easily, decided, Hope,” said the Premier.  “Let us have the despatch-box brought in.”

The Secretary rang the bell.

“Jacobs, bring down my despatch-box.  This is a farcical waste of time, but still, if nothing else will satisfy you, it shall be done.  Thank you, Jacobs, put it here.  I have always had the key on my watch-chain.  Here are the papers, you see.  Letter from Lord Merrow, report from Sir Charles Hardy, memorandum from Belgrade, note on the Russo-German grain taxes, letter from Madrid, note from Lord Flowers——­Good heavens! what is this?  Lord Bellinger!  Lord Bellinger!”

The Premier snatched the blue envelope from his hand.

“Yes, it is it—­and the letter is intact.  Hope, I congratulate you.”

“Thank you!  Thank you!  What a weight from my heart.  But this is inconceivable—­impossible.  Mr. Holmes, you are a wizard, a sorcerer!  How did you know it was there?”

“Because I knew it was nowhere else.”

“I cannot believe my eyes!” He ran wildly to the door.  “Where is my wife?  I must tell her that all is well.  Hilda!  Hilda!” we heard his voice on the stairs.

The Premier looked at Holmes with twinkling eyes.

“Come, sir,” said he.  “There is more in this than meets the eye.  How came the letter back in the box?”

Holmes turned away smiling from the keen scrutiny of those wonderful eyes.

“We also have our diplomatic secrets,” said he and, picking up his hat, he turned to the door.