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. 'I'll give that side two
weeks,' I said. On the other hand, the robber: will he allow
himself to be lulled into a false sense of security by counting on
this delay, or will he not, noting my habit of occasionally entering
upon detective enterprises of this nature of my own volition, come to
me at once and set me to work ferreting out some crime that has never
been committed? My feeling was that this would happen, and I pulled
out my watch to see if it were not nearly time for him to arrive.
The robbery had taken place at a state ball at the Buckingham Palace.
'H'm!' I mused. 'He has had an hour and forty minutes to get here.
It is now twelve-twenty. He should be here by twelve-forty-five. I
will wait.' And hastily swallowing a cocaine tablet to nerve myself
up for the meeting, I sat down and began to read my Schopenhauer.
Hardly had I perused a page when there came a tap upon my door. I
rose with a smile, for I thought I knew what was to happen, opened
the door, and there stood, much to my surprise, the husband of the
lady whose tiara was missing. It was the Duke of Brokedale himself.
It is true he was disguised. His beard was powdered until it looked