remove from Jimmy's mind the impression made by the sight of the
pearls. It turned on crime in general and burglary in particular.

Spennie began it.

"Oh, I say," he said, "I forgot to tell you, mother. Number Six was
burgled the other night."

Number Six-a, Easton Square, was the family's London house.

"Burgled!"

"Well, broken into," said Spennie, gratified to find that he had got
the ear of his entire audience. Even Lady Blunt was silent and
attentive. "Chap got in through the scullery window about one o'clock,
in the morning. It was the night after you dined with me, Pitt."

"And what did our Spennie do?" inquired Sir Thomas.

"Oh, I--er--I was out at the time," said Spennie. "But something
frightened the feller," he went on hurriedly, "and he made a bolt for
it without taking anything."

Jimmy, looking down the table, became conscious that his host's eye
was fixed gloomily upon him. He knew intuitively what was passing in
McEachern's mind. The ex-policeman was feeling that his worst
suspicions had been confirmed. Jimmy had dined with Spennie--obviously
a mere excuse for spying out the land; and the very next night the
house had been burgled. Once more Mr. McEachern congratulated himself
on his astuteness in engaging the detective from Wragge's Agency. With