“To read to him, sir.”

“To read to him at this hour?”

“Mr. Peters suffers from insomnia, sir.  He has a weak digestion and pain sometimes prevents him from sleeping.  The lining of his stomach is not at all what it should be.”

“I don’t believe a word of it.”

With that meekness which makes the good man wronged so impressive a spectacle, Ashe produced and exhibited his novel.

“Here is the book I am about to read to him.  I think, sir, if you will excuse me, I had better be going to his room.  Good night, sir.”

He proceeded to mount the stairs.  He was sorry for Mr. Peters, so shortly about to be roused from a refreshing slumber; but these were life’s tragedies and must be borne bravely.

The Efficient Baxter dogged him the whole way, sprinting silently in his wake and dodging into the shadows whenever the light of an occasional electric bulb made it inadvisable to keep to the open.  Then abruptly he gave up the pursuit.  For the first time his comparative impotence in this silent conflict on which he had embarked was made manifest to him, and he perceived that on mere suspicion, however strong, he could do nothing.  To accuse Mr. Peters of theft or to accuse him of being accessory to a theft was out of the question.

Yet his whole being revolted at the thought of allowing the sanctity of the museum to be violated.  Officially its contents belonged to Lord Emsworth, but ever since his connection with the castle he had been put in charge of them, and he had come to look on them as his own property.  If he was only a collector by proxy he had, nevertheless, the collector’s devotion to his curios, beside which the lioness’ attachment to her cubs is tepid; and he was prepared to do anything to retain in his possession a scarab toward which he already entertained the feelings of a life proprietor.

No—­not quite anything!  He stopped short at the idea of causing unpleasantness between the father of the Honorable Freddie and the father of the Honorable Freddie’s fiancee.  His secretarial position at the castle was a valuable one and he was loath to jeopardize it.

There was only one way in which this delicate affair could be brought to a satisfactory conclusion.  It was obvious from what he had seen that night that Mr. Peters’ connection with the attempt on the scarab was to be merely sympathetic, and that the actual theft was to be accomplished by Ashe.  His only course, therefore, was to catch Ashe actually in the museum.  Then Mr. Peters need not appear in the matter at all.  Mr. Peters’ position in those circumstances would be simply that of a man who had happened to employ, through no fault of his own, a valet who happened to be a thief.

He had made a mistake, he perceived, in locking the door of the museum.  In future he must leave it open, as a trap is open; and he must stay up nights and keep watch.  With these reflections, the Efficient Baxter returned to his room.