depressed, I was on the point of going out for my usual midnight walk on Hampstead Heath, when one of my servants, hastily entering, informed me of the robbery.  I changed my mind in respect to my midnight walk immediately upon receipt of the news, for I knew that before one o’clock some one would call upon me at my lodgings with reference to this robbery.  It could not be otherwise.  Any mystery of such magnitude could no more be taken to another bureau than elephants could fly—­”

“They used to,” said Adam.  “I once had a whole aviary full of winged elephants.  They flew from flower to flower, and thrusting their probabilities deep into—­”

“Their what?” queried Johnson, with a frown.

“Probabilities—­isn’t that the word?  Their trunks,” said Adam.

“Probosces, I imagine you mean,” suggested Johnson.

“Yes—­that was it.  Their probosces,” said Adam.  “They were great honey-gatherers, those elephants—­far better than the bees, because they could make so much more of it in a given time.”

Munchausen shook his head sadly.  “I’m afraid I’m outclassed by these antediluvians,” he said.

“Gentlemen! gentlemen!” cried Sir Walter.  “These interruptions are inexcusable!”

“That’s what I think,” said the stranger, with some asperity.  “I’m having about as hard a time getting this story out as I would if it were a serial.  Of course, if you gentlemen do not wish to hear it, I can stop; but it must be understood that when I do stop I stop finally, once and for all, because the tale has not a sufficiency of dramatic climaxes to warrant its prolongation over the usual magazine period of twelve months.”

“Go on! go on!” cried some.

“Shut up!” cried others—­addressing the interrupting members, of course.

“As I was saying,” resumed the stranger, “I felt confident that within an hour, in some way or other, that case would be placed in my hands.  It would be mine either positively or negatively—­that is to say, either the person robbed would employ me to ferret out the mystery and recover the diamonds, or the robber himself, actuated by motives of self-preservation, would endeavor to direct my energies into other channels until he should have the time to dispose of his ill-gotten booty.  A mental discussion of the probabilities inclined me to believe that the latter would be the case.  I reasoned in this fashion:  The person robbed is of exalted rank.  She cannot move rapidly because she is so.  Great bodies move slowly.  It is probable that it will be a week before, according to the etiquette by which she is hedged about, she can communicate with me.  In the first place, she must inform one of her attendants that she has been robbed.  He must communicate the news to the functionary in charge of her residence, who will communicate with the Home Secretary, and from him will issue the orders to the police, who, baffled at every step, will finally address themselves to me.