"He never sold me after all," muttered Jack, who became painfully astonished on hearing Mr. Harris declare that Rutley had obtained one of the packages of money from the bank on his indorsement. And as the plan by which he was tricked into betrayal of his accomplice became evident, his chagrin deepened to grief. He turned to Rutley and said, brokenly: "Phil, I take it all back," and then he muttered absently as he realized the futility of regret. "But it is too late--I have been tricked into a confession." "The jig is up," replied Rutley. "I shall take my medicine like a man." "That money must remain in the custody of the police until the court decides for the owner," said the detective. "Certainly," affirmed Mr. Harris, who handed him the two packages. "This one is mine, and contains ten thousand dollars. And this contains a like amount and belongs to Miss Thorpe. I shall apply to the court for restitution tomorrow," remarked Mr. Harris. "Very well, sir. Now please hand me that coat and we will go," said the detective. Mr. Harris picked up the coat and handed it to the detective. "Keep it, old man," advised Rutley, with lofty disdain. "Keep it as a memento of how you were once charmed by one of England's nobility," he laughed derisively. "I will have no gift from a thief," indignantly exclaimed Mr. Harris, as he handed over the coat. "Officers, away with them." "Good-bye Charles, Reginald, De Coursy, West-ma-coate Cosmos, me Lord Beauchamp. Fare thee well," said Sam, with a grin. It was at that time that the little Scotch terrier began to sniff at Jack's trouser legs inquisitively. The dog had wandered near him, attracted by the sound of his familiar voice, and though it evidently scented something intimate, could not recognize his former master in the changed appearance resultant on his enforced bath. And so the dog sniffed and sniffed while the glint of its upward turned eyes ominously resented any friendly overture. Jack had noticed the dog about, and now that it was sniffing at his leg, he softly spoke to it, saying: "Good-bye, Snooks," whereupon to his surprise the dog growled at him. Again he said, soothingly: "Good bye Snooks," putting out his hand to fondle it, but the dog, in one of those singularly unsympathetic moods rare to its nature, would have none of him, and barked at him furiously. It was the finishing stroke to his shame and degradation. "An outcast, a stranger, so low I have fallen that my own dog barks at me." "Come along," urged the detective to Rutley and Jack. But Rutley halted and turned to Hazel, with the same marvellous air that had won for him confidence in critical moments of "my lord's" career. "Ta, ta, pet," said he, in his softest blandishment to Hazel. "That was a ravishing kiss you gave me in the conservatory awhile ago. Ta, ta," and he threw her a kiss with his free hand and followed it with a tragic scowl at Sam. "The horrid man," indignantly exclaimed Hazel.