"It didn't necessarily follow, because a woman paid for her purchases with a cheque of mine that that woman was the Duchess of Datchet." "I think, under the peculiar circumstances of the case, that it did. At least, the presumption was strong upon that side. May I ask to whom your Grace's cheque was given?" "You may ask, but I don't see why I should tell you. It was honoured, and that is sufficient." "I don't think it is sufficient, and I don't think that your Grace will think so either, if you consider for a moment. If it had not been for the strong presumptive evidence of your Grace's cheque, we should not have been robbed of many thousand pounds." The Duke of Datchet paced restlessly to and fro. Messrs. Ruby and Golden watched him. At last he moved towards his writing table. He sat down on the chair behind it. He stretched out his legs in front of him. He thrust his hands into his trousers pockets. "I'll make a clean breast of it. You fellows can keep a still tongue in your heads--keep a still tongue about what I am going to tell you." His hearers bowed. They were coming to the point--at last. "Eh"--in spite of his announced intention of making a clean breast of it, his Grace rather stumbled in his speech. "Before I was married I--I had some acquaintance with--with a certain lady. When I married, that acquaintance ceased. On the last occasion on which I saw her she informed me that she was indebted to you in the sum of a thousand pounds for jewellery. I gave her a cheque to discharge her liability to you, and to make sure that she did discharge the liability, I made the cheque payable to you, which, I now perceive, was perhaps not the wisest thing I could have done. But, at the same time, I wish you clearly to comprehend that I have every reason to believe that the lady referred to is, to put it mildly, a most unlikely person to--to rob any one." "We must request you to furnish us with that lady's name and address. And I would advise your Grace to accompany us in an immediate visit to that lady." "That is your advice is it, Mr. Golden? I am not sure that I appreciate it quite so much as it may possibly deserve." "Otherwise, as you will yourself perceive, we shall be compelled to put the matter at once in the hands of the police, and, your Grace, there will be a scandal." The Duke of Datchet reflected. He looked at Mr. Golden, he looked at Mr. Ruby, he looked at the ceiling, he looked at the floor, he looked at his boots--then he looked back again at Mr. Golden. At last he rose. He shook himself a little--as if to shake his clothes into their proper places. He seemed to have threshed the _pros_ and _cons_ of the matter well out, mentally, and to have finally decided. "As I do not want a scandal, I think I will take your excellent advice, Mr. Golden--which I now really do appreciate at its proper value--and accompany you upon that little visit. Shall we go at once?" "At once--if your Grace pleases."