a gentleman in whom I also have most implicit confidence. We will resume our dinner, if you please, ladies and gentlemen.”
Unwillingly, the people were led away. John Dory was already in his great-coat, ready to spring into the powerful motor-car which had been ordered out from the garage. A doctor, who had been among the guests, was examining the man Saunders, who sat in that still, unnatural position at the head of the table.
“The poor fellow has been shot in the back of the head with some peculiar implement,” he said. “The bullet is very long—almost like a needle—and it seems to have penetrated very nearly to the base of the brain.”
“Is he dead?” Peter Ruff asked.
The doctor shook his head.
“No!” he answered. “An inch higher up and he must have died at once. I want some of the men-servants to help me carry him to a bedroom, and plenty of hot water. Some one else must go for my instrument case.”
Lord Sotherst took these things in charge, and John Dory turned to the man whom they had found standing over him.
“Tell us exactly what happened,” he said, briefly.
“I was standing outside the door,” the man answered. “I heard no sound inside—there was nothing to excite suspicion in any way. Suddenly there was this explosion. It took me, perhaps, thirty or forty seconds to get the key out of my pocket and unlock the door. When I entered, the side of the room was blown in like that, the diamonds were gone, Saunders was leaning forward just in the position he is in now, and there wasn’t another soul in sight. Then you and the others came.”
John Dory rushed from the room; they had brought him word that the car was waiting. At such a moment, he was ready even to forget his ancient enmity. He turned towards Peter Ruff, whose calm bearing somehow or other impressed even the detective with a sense of power.
“Will you come along?” he asked.
Peter Ruff shook his head.
“Thank you, Dory, no!” he said. “I am glad you have asked me, but I think you had better go alone.”
A few seconds later, the pursuit was started. Saunders was carried out of the room, followed by the doctor. There remained only Peter Ruff and the man who had been on duty outside. Peter Ruff seated himself where Saunders had been sitting, and seemed to be closely examining the table all round for some moments. Once he took up something from between the pages of the book which the Sergeant had apparently been reading, and put it carefully into his own pocketbook. Then he leaned back in the chair, with his hands clasped behind his head and his eyes fixed upon the ceiling, as though thinking intently.
“Hastings,” he said to the policeman, who all the time was pursuing a stream of garrulous, inconsequent remarks, “I wonder whether you’d step outside and see Mr. Richards, the butler. Ask him if he would be so good as to spare me a moment.”
“I’ll do it, sir,” the man answered, with one more glance through the open space. “Lord!” he added, “they must have been in through there and out again like cats!”
“It was quick work, certainly,” Peter Ruff answered, genially, “but then, an enterprise like this would, of course, only be attempted by experts.”
Peter Ruff was not left alone long. Mr. Richards came hurrying in.
“This is a terrible business, sir!” he said. “His lordship has excused me from superintending the service of the dinner. Anything that I can do for you I am to give my whole attention to. These were my orders.”
“Very good of you, Richards,” Peter Ruff answered, “very thoughtful of his lordship. In the first place, then, I think, we will have the rest of this jewelry packed in cases at once. Not that anything further is likely to happen,” he continued, “but still, it would be just as well out of the way. I will remain here and superintend this, if you will send a couple of careful servants. In the meantime, I want you to do something else for me.”
“Certainly, sir,” the man answered.
“I want a plan of the house,” Peter Ruff said, “with the names of the guests who occupy this wing.”
The butler nodded gravely.
“I can supply you with it very shortly, sir,” he said. “There is no difficulty at all about the plan, as I have several in my room; but it will take me some minutes to pencil in the names.”
Peter Ruff nodded.
“I will superintend things here until you return,” he said.
“It is to be hoped, sir,” the man said, as he retreated, “that the gentleman from Scotland Yard will catch the thieves. After all, they hadn’t more than ten minutes’ start, and our Daimler is a flyer.”
“I’m sure I hope so,” Peter Ruff answered, heartily.
But, alas! no such fortune was in store for Mr. John Dory. At daybreak he returned in a borrowed trap from a neighboring railway station.
“Our tires had been cut,” he said, in reply to a storm of questions. “They began to go, one after the other, as soon as we had any speed on. We traced the car to Salisbury, and there isn’t a village within forty miles that isn’t looking out for it.”
Peter Ruff, who had just returned from an early morning walk, nodded sympathetically.
“Shall you be here all day, Mr. Dory?” he asked. “There’s just a word or two I should like to have with you.”
Dory turned away. He had forced himself, in the excitement of the moment, to speak to his ancient enemy, but in this hour of his humility the man’s presence was distasteful to him.
“I am not sure,” he said, shortly. “It depends on how things may turn out.”
The daily life at Clenarvon Court proceeded exactly as usual. Breakfast was served early, as there was to be big day’s shoot. The Marquis de Sogrange and Peter Ruff smoked their cigarettes together afterwards in the great hall. Then it was that Peter Ruff took the plunge.
“Marquis,” he said, “I should like to know exactly how I stand with you—the ‘Double-Four,’ that is to say—supposing I range myself for an hour or so on the side of the law?”
Sogrange smiled.
“You amuse yourself, Mr. Ruff,” he remarked genially.
“Not in the least,” Peter Ruff answered. “I am serious.”
Sogrange watched the blue cigarette smoke come down his nose.
“My dear friend,” he said, “I am no amateur at this game. When I choose to play it, I am not afraid of Scotland Yard. I am not afraid,” he concluded, with a little bow, “even of you!”
“Do you ever bet, Marquis?” Peter Ruff asked.
“Twenty-five thousand francs,” Sogrange said, smiling, “that your efforts to aid Mr. John Dory are unavailing.”
Peter Ruff entered the amount in his pocketbook. “It is a bargain,” he declared. “Our
