With a faint sneer my sister regarded him.  Then—­

“Au revoir,” she said steadily.

“So long, old bean,” said Berry.  “See you at Vine Street.”

As I passed into the hall, the lights went up and a cap was clapped on to my head and pulled down tight over my eyes.  Then I was thrust into a corner of the hall, close to the front door.  Immediately this was opened, and I could hear everything happen as we had been led to expect.  Only there was a hand on my shoulder....

I heard the master coming with a jest on his lips.

As he passed me, he was speaking ostensibly to one of his comrades ... ostensibly....

“I shouldn’t wait up for Jonah,” he said.

* * * * *

Thanks to the fact that one of the Assistant Commissioners of Police was an old friend of mine, we were spared much of the tedious interrogation and well-meant, but in the circumstances utterly futile, attentions of the subordinate officers of the C.I.D.

Admission to the house had been gained without breaking, and there were no finger-prints.  Moreover, since our visitors had worn masks, such descriptions of them as we could give were very inadequate.  However, statements were taken from my sister, Berry and myself, and the spurious telegram was handed over.  The insurance company was, of course, informed of the crime.

Despite the paucity of detail, our description of the gang and its methods aroused tremendous excitement at Scotland Yard.  The master, it appeared, was a veritable Prince of Darkness.  Save that he existed, and was a man of large ideas and the utmost daring, to whose charge half the great unplaced robberies of recent years were, rightly or wrongly, laid, little or nothing was known of his manners or personality.

“I tell you,” said the Assistant Commissioner, leaning back and tilting his chair, “he’s just about as hot as they make ’em.  And when we do take him, if ever we do—­and that might be to-morrow, or in ten years’ time—­we might walk straight into him next week with the stuff in his hands; you never know—­well, when we do take him, as like as not, he’ll prove to be a popular M.P., or a recognized authority on livestock or something.  You’ve probably seen him heaps of times in St. James’s, and, as like as not, he’s a member of your own Club.  Depend upon it, the old sinner moves in those circles which you know are above suspicion.  If somebody pinched your watch at Ascot, you’d never look for the thief in the enclosure, would you?  Of course not.  Well, I may be wrong, but I don’t think so.  Meanwhile let’s have some lunch.”