Jack nodded significantly to his companion, as much as to signify that Seymour must be allowed to have his own way. The latter had taken the matter into his own hands from the first. It was quite evident that he was working out some deep and subtle scheme, and the others were disposed to give him a free hand.

"Would you like to see Bates now?" Jack asked.

"Most emphatically not," Seymour laughed. "It is no cue of mine to come in contact with the police until I have seen my way quite clear. Besides, you are by no means certain yet that Bates will be put on to this case, and be given the opportunity of investigating the startling burglary at the City and Provincial Bank. Again, it may be too much for Bates's nerves if I burst upon him suddenly, and he recognizes me as the dead Nostalgo who was so mysteriously spirited from Shannon Street police station. No; on the whole, I should prefer that you should go and see Bates alone. Tell him exactly what happened and what you saw to-night, leaving me out of the question. Then come and see me some time to-morrow afternoon, and I will tell you what to do next."

"One moment," Rigby exclaimed, as Seymour was turning away. "What was that idea of yours about the cotton waste?"

Seymour winked significantly, and remarked that it was time he was in bed. With a cheery nod to his companions, he turned his face in an easterly direction and strolled off down the street.

"Now there's a clever man for you," Rigby cried. "Quite as clever a man as Anstruther, and I should say a great deal more subtle. But let us go as far as Shannon Street police station, and tell Bates our story."

Bates had been detained rather late. He had only just come in, and was preparing to go home when the two friends entered. He had no need to ask if they had anything of importance to communicate to him--he could glean that from the expression of the friends' faces. He led the way to his private room, and passed the cigarettes across the table.

"It's about Carrington," Rigby explained. "But perhaps I had better go back a bit, and tell you one or two little things you don't know."

It was a fairly long story, and it thoroughly aroused Bates to a sense of action. His questions were clear and intelligent; he followed the narrative, punctuating it here and there with shrewd suggestions.

"Mind you," he said. "I have been expecting something like this for a long time. All the same, I can see that you gentlemen have only told me half the story. Still, I can't complain, especially as I see my way to make a good thing out of this. When I tell the people at Scotland Yard all I know they are pretty sure to put me on the case--indeed, I will make a special favor of it. You say that you saw Anstruther blowing up all those locks, and you are pretty sure that the great bulk of the plunder is in Carrington's private safe. You don't suggest that Anstruther carried that service of plate home with him?"

"Anstruther wouldn't be such a fool," Rigby said curtly. "He is much too cool a hand for that. He will feel quite sure that the stuff is perfectly safe where it is, and fetch it away from the City a bit at a time. Of course, he won't do this till the affair has blown over and he is quite safe in so doing."

Bates was inclined to share the speaker's opinion. There was no more to be said for the present, and he intimated his intention to go up to Scotland Yard and ask the authorities to put him on the case. Jack and Rigby went their respective ways, a clock somewhere striking two when they parted at length.

Precisely as Bates had prophesied, the mysterious burglary at the City and Provincial Bank caused the greatest sensation the following morning. The later editions of the evening papers were full of it. Carrington had been interviewed by more than one bright reporter; indeed, he had been dragged out of bed for the purpose, and he had been understood to say that the bank's loss could not fall far short of a million unless the thieves could be promptly arrested. The story was vividly told, Carrington's distress and agitation being expressly accentuated.

But this was not the worst part of the distracted bank manager's story. There had been in the possession of the bank a tremendous lot of valuable personal property belonging to various esteemed clients. All this had disappeared, and more than one great lady in London was mourning the loss of her family jewels. The greatest sympathy was felt with the bank; it was only one or two carping critics who were asking questions.

They were pertinent questions, too; a desire, for instance, to know what Carrington could possibly be doing on the bank premises at so late an hour. But these were merely pin pricks, and the great bulk of the population felt nothing but sympathy for Carrington. The only people who had a fairly good grip of the real state of the case besides Rigby and his companions were the Barmouths and Claire Helmsley. Jack saw Claire in Lady Barmouth's drawing-room late the following morning, and explained to her and Lady Barmouth what had happened the night previous.

"It is most mysterious," Claire said, "and almost impossible to believe that my guardian had anything to do with the matter. I dined very quietly at home last night, and sat up till long past one finishing a novel in which I was deeply interested. I can assure you of this--that from half-past nine till the time I went to bed Mr. Anstruther's violin practically did not cease. If I were brought into the case as a witness, I should be bound to swear that my guardian was in his study during the whole time that the burglary was taking place."

"That is another phase of the mystery that we have to solve," Jack said. "It is all very clever and very ingenious and very useful, but seeing is believing. After all, Anstruther was there last night, as three of us are prepared to testify."

"Then in that case I shall never see my jewels again," Lady Barmouth said. "But what are the police going to do about it, Mr. Masefield? The thing cannot be possibly allowed to remain here. If they were to arrest Mr. Carrington at once and search his safe----"

"But the police don't work quite in that way," Jack interrupted. "Besides, Carrington is not the only one. The chief villain in the play is Spencer Anstruther; and at the present moment he is in a position to prove a perfect alibi. It is not the slightest use laying Carrington by the heels till we are in a position to prove Anstruther's alibi to be nothing but an ingenious mechanical fraud. Don't you recollect the case of the Ph?nix Park murders? In that case the police could have laid their hands upon half the culprits within a few days. They preferred to wait months, until every one of the gang were swept up in the meshes of the law. I will go and see Bates presently, and ascertain if he has anything fresh to tell us."

It was quite late in the afternoon before Jack managed to get a few words with the inspector. He seemed to be very cheerful and sanguine, and dropped a hint to the effect that his morning had not been altogether wasted.

"Oh, we are going on, right enough," he exclaimed in answer to Jack's question. "In the circumstances, they can do nothing else. Most of my morning has been spent in calling on the various unfortunate people whose valuables were deposited at Carrington's bank, and getting a full description of the same. After that I made the rounds of the principal pawnbrokers and such people as advance money on real property."

"Did ............