"I mean that he sent in his report to Wiltshire this afternoon, as arranged. From what he said the other night, after being alone in the room with the empty jewel case and a magnifying glass for two minutes or so, he was in a position to describe the modus operandi, and, what is more, to put the police on the scent of the burglar." "And how was it worked?" asked Carne. "From the empty house next door," replied the other. "On the morning of the burglary a man, purporting to be a retired army officer, called with an order to view, got the caretaker out of the way, clambered along to Wiltshire house by means of the parapet outside, reached the room during the time the servants were at breakfast, opened the safe, and abstracted the jewels." "But how did Klimo find all this out?" asked Lord Orpington. "By his own inimitable cleverness," replied Lord Amberley. "At any rate it has been proved that he was correct. The man did make his way from next door, and the police have since discovered that an individual, answering to the description given, visited a pawnbroker’s shop in the city about an hour later, and stated that he had diamonds to sell." "If that is so it turns out to be a very simple mystery after all," said Lord Orpington as they began their meal. "Thanks to the ingenuity of the cleverest detective in the world," remarked Amberley. "In that case here’s a good health to Klimo," said the Privy Councillor, raising his glass. "I will join you in that," said Simon Carne. "Here’s a very good health to Klimo and his connection with the Duchess of Wiltshire’s diamonds. May he always be equally successful!" "Hear, hear to that," replied his guests. *CHAPTER IV.* *HOW SIMON CARNE WON THE DERBY.* It was seven o’clock on one of the brightest mornings of all that year. The scene was Waterloo Station, where the Earl of Amberley, Lord Orpington, and the Marquis of Laverstock were pacing up and down the main line departure platform, gazing anxiously about them. It was evident, from the way they scrutinized every person who approached them, that they were on the lookout for some one. This some one ultimately proved to be Simon Carne, who, when he appeared, greeted them with considerable cordiality, at the same time apologizing for his lateness in joining them. "I think this must be our train," he said, pointing to the carriages drawn up beside the platform on which they stood. "At any rate, here is my man. By dint of study he has turned himself into a sort of walking Bradshaw, and he will certainly be able to inform us."