I’ll have to try every key in the house, sir.

Winsor.  Inspector, do you really think it necessary to disturb the whole house and knock up all my guests?  It’s most disagreeable, all this, you know.  The loss of the money is not such a great matter.  Mr De Levis has a very large income.

Canynge.  You could get the numbers of the notes from Kentman the bookmaker, Inspector; he’ll probably have the big ones, anyway.

Inspector. [Shaking his head] A bookie.  I don’t suppose he will, sir.  It’s come and go with them, all the time.

Winsor.  We don’t want a Meldon Court scandal, Inspector.

Inspector.  Well, Mr Winsor, I’ve formed my theory.

     As he speaks, de Levis comes in from the balcony.

And I don’t say to try the keys is necessary to it; but strictly, I ought to exhaust the possibilities.

Winsor.  What do you say, De Levis?  D’you want everybody in the house knocked up so that their keys can be tried?

De Levis. [Whose face, since his return, expresses a curious excitement] No, I don’t.

Inspector.  Very well, gentlemen.  In my opinion the thief walked in before the door was locked, probably during dinner; and was under the bed.  He escaped by dropping from the balcony—­the creeper at that corner [he points stage Left] has been violently wrenched.  I’ll go down now, and examine the grounds, and I’ll see you again Sir. [He makes another entry in his note-book] Goodnight, then, gentlemen!

Canynge.  Good-night!

Winsor. [With relief] I’ll come with you, Inspector.

     He escorts him to the door, and they go out.

De Levis. [Suddenly] General, I know who took them.

Canynge.  The deuce you do!  Are you following the Inspector’s theory?

De Levis. [Contemptuously] That ass! [Pulling the shaving papers out of the case] No!  The man who put those there was clever and cool enough to wrench that creeper off the balcony, as a blind.  Come and look here, General. [He goes to the window; the general follows.  De Levis points stage Right] See the rail of my balcony, and the rail of the next? [He holds up the cord of his dressing-gown, stretching his arms out] I’ve measured it with this.  Just over seven feet, that’s all!  If a man can take a standing jump on to a narrow bookcase four feet high and balance there, he’d make nothing of that.  And, look here! [He goes out on the balcony and returns with a bit of broken creeper in his hand, and holds it out into the light] Someone’s stood on that—­the stalk’s crushed—­the inner corner too, where he’d naturally stand when he took his jump back.

Canynge. [After examining it—­stiffly] That other balcony is young Dancy’s, Mr De Levis; a soldier and a gentleman.  This is an extraordinary insinuation.