"Lord Porthoning," I said, "there is no necessity for such vigorous denials. The matter is easily arranged. You had better permit me to examine the pocket in question." "I'll see you and your common bully of a father-in-law in hell before I allow either of you to touch me or my clothing!" my pleasant connection declared fiercely. "Get out of my way, both of you! And be thankful if you don't have to answer for this outrage in a police court!" He swaggered toward the door. Mr. Bundercombe, who had appeared to stand on one side, suddenly caught him by the shoulders. "Feel in his right-hand pocket, Paul!" he bade me. I did so and promptly produced the brooch. Lord Porthoning's eyes seemed almost to start from his head. I could see that he suddenly became limp in Mr. Bundercombe's grasp. His eyes were fixed on the jewels and his amazement was undeniable. Mr. Bundercombe winked at me over his head. "What is the meaning of this, Lord Porthoning?" I demanded as sternly as I could. My courage was failing me. I felt that the joke, after all, had been a severe one. Lord Porthoning seemed almost on the point of collapse. His eyes never once left the brooch which I was holding. "I didn't take it!" he gasped. "I swear I didn't take it!" I was anxious now to finish the affair. "Lord Porthoning," I said, "I will take your word. You say you never took the brooch. Very well; we will assume, for the sake of the family, that it found its way into your pocket by accident." Lord Porthoning felt his forehead. There were big drops of sweat standing out there. There was something in his extreme agitation that was, in a way, incomprehensible. He edged toward the door. "I didn't take it!" he muttered. "Let me go! Let me get away!" Mr. Bundercombe stood on one side. My hand was on the handle of the door. I looked at my father-in-law questioningly. My sympathies were now almost with the enemy, but I felt bound to see the affair through. "It was you who discovered this little accident," I remarked. "I think you will agree with me that it is best to say nothing more about it." Mr. Bundercombe once more winked at me solemnly over the head of my stricken connection. "I quite agree with you, Paul," he said. "Under the circumstances we will let nothing happen to disturb the festivities and harmony of the day. Lord Porthoning certainly will not object if we just satisfy ourselves that the brooch was the only instance of--momentary aberration; shall we call it?" If Lord Porthoning's attitude had been a little mysterious before it was absolutely incomprehensible now. He stood suddenly upright and brandished his cane over his head. "If either of you touch me," he shouted fiercely, "I'll break your skulls! This is blackmail! I'll send for the police! Let me go!"