“You see?” Hewitt said handing the inspector the paper. “Snape, the unconsidered messenger, finding Legg in prison, set to work and got the jewels for himself. He either had more gumption than the other people through whose hands the ‘Flitterbat Lancers’ has passed, or else he had got some clue to the cipher during his association with Shiels. The thing was a cryptogram, of course, of a very simple sort, though uncommon in design. Snape was a humorous soul, too, to leave this message here in the same cipher, on the chance of somebody else reading the ‘Flitterbat Lancers.’” “But,” I asked, “why did he give that slip of music to Luker’s father?” “Well, he owed him money, and got out of it that way. Also he avoided the appearance of ‘flushness’ that paying the debt might have given him, and got quietly out of the country with his spoils. Also he may have paid off a grudge on old Luker--anyhow, the thing plagued him enough.” The shrieks upstairs had grown hoarser, but the broom continued vigorously. “Let that woman out,” said the inspector, “and we’ll go and report. Not much good looking for Snape now, I fancy. But there’s some satisfaction in clearing up that old quarter-century mystery.” We left the place pursued by the execrations of the broom wielder, who bolted the door behind us, and from the window defied us to come back, and vowed she would have us all searched before a magistrate for what we had probably stolen. In the very next street we hove in sight of Reuben B. Hoker in the company of two swell-mob-looking fellows, who sheered off down a side turning at sight of our group. Hoker, too, looked rather shy at sight of the inspector. As we passed, Hewitt stopped for a moment and said, “I’m afraid you’ve lost those jewels, Mr. Hoker; come to my office to-morrow, and I’ll tell you all about it.” III