In front of him was a thin young gentleman with a pale face, who puffed at a big meerschaum pipe as though he did not exactly like it. He was reading a novel with a yellow back, which all the world could perceive was _The Adventures of Harry Lorrequer_. The old gentleman had been reading the _Evening Standard_ through a pair of gold glasses of the most imposing size and pattern. He had apparently finished with his paper, for he lowered it and stared through his glasses at the thin young man in front of him. The thin young man did not seem to be made the more comfortable by his gaze. "Have you seen about the Countess of Ferndale's jewels?" This was said in loud, magisterial tones, which commanded the attention of the whole compartment. The young man seemed startled. Bertie was startled; he almost thought he saw the _Globe_ tremble in the captain's hands. "I beg your pardon?" "Have you seen about the Countess of Ferndale's jewels?" This was said in tones rather louder and more magisterial than at first. "No! No! I haven't!" "Then, sir, I say it's a disgrace to the country." Whether it was a disgrace to the country that the thin young man had not heard about the Countess of Ferndale's jewels was not quite clear. The thin young man seemed to think it was, for he turned pink. However, the old gentleman went on,-- "Here's a noble lady, the wife of one of the greatest English peers, returning from personal attendance upon her sovereign, bearing with her jewels of almost priceless value, and they disappear from underneath her nose. I say it's a disgrace to the country, sir!" The thin young man seemed relieved. It was evidently not his want of knowledge which was a disgrace to the country, but the disappearance of the lady's jewels. Bertie pricked up his ears; the captain gave no sign of having heard. The young man ventured on a question. "How's that? Have they been stolen?" "How's that, sir! Stolen, sir! I should think they have been stolen!" The words were spoken with almost volcanic force. All the carriage began to take an interest in what was being said--excepting always "Uncle Tom." The old gentleman grasped his paper with his right hand, and emphasized his words with the first finger of his left. "At half-past two this afternoon the Countess of Ferndale, who has been in attendance at Windsor Castle, started from Windsor to London. Windsor, sir, is at a distance of twenty-two miles from town--twenty-two miles; no more. The traffic between that place and London, sir, is extremely large; and yet, travelling on that short strip of railway, in one of Her Majesty's own state coaches----" "I don't think it was in one of the Queen's own coaches she was travelling." "No; it wasn't." The first interruption came from the severe-looking gentleman who had lent the Captain the _Globe_; the second from a placid-looking gentleman with black whiskers, who sat beside him in front of Bertie. "Well, sir, and what difference does that make?"