"None at all, perhaps, to the main issue," the severe gentleman allowed. "It's only a statement of fact." "Well, sir, supposing it is a statement of fact, which, as at present advised, I am not prepared to allow, I suppose I may take it for granted that she was travelling in a compartment which was exclusively reserved for her own use?" "That, I believe, was the case." "Well, sir, travelling on that short strip of railway, in a compartment exclusively reserved for her own use, what happens in this England of the nineteenth century? It is incredible! monstrous! She had with her certain family jewels of almost priceless value. She had been wearing them in Her Majesty's own presence. They were in the charge of certain officers of her household; and yet, when she comes to the end of that journey of two and twenty miles, they were gone, sir!--gone! vanished into air!" "No! If they were stolen, he must have been a jolly clever thief," observed the thin young man. "A jolly clever thief!" said, or rather roared the stout old gentleman. "You speak of the author of such an outrage as a jolly clever thief. If I had the miscreant within reach of my hand"--the stout old gentleman stretched out his hand, and the thin young man shrank out of the way--"I should consider myself justified in striking him down, and trampling the life out of his wretched carcass. I should consider the doer of such an act deserved well of his country, sir!" Bertie felt a cold shiver go down his back. He pictured the stout old gentleman striking him down, and trampling the life out of his wretched carcass. At that moment he almost felt as though he had been guilty of the crime; he almost expected the stout old gentleman to read his guilt upon his countenance, and conclude the business there and then. As for the captain--the least that Bertie expected him to do was to open the door and, without waiting for such a small detail as the stopping of the train, disappear into the night. What he actually did was to return the _Globe_, with a courteous bow, to the severe-looking gentleman, carefully cross his knees, and light a fresh cigar. Then he listened to what was being said with an air of placid interest. "What was the value of the jewels?" inquired the gentleman with the black whiskers. "Priceless! priceless! How can you value jewels which have been in the possession of a noble family for generations? which are family heirlooms?" "I suppose they must be pretty well known, in which case the thieves will find considerable difficulty in getting rid of their spoil." "Getting rid of their spoil! Is it conceivable that such villains are to be allowed to get rid of their spoil, to sell it, and fatten on the proceeds?" "Very conceivable, indeed, unless something is done to stop them." The stout old gentleman was so affected by the idea of the countess's jewels being brought into the market in such an ignoble way that words failed him, and he gasped for breath.