“I quite agree that it is most unsuitable. I should myself call it indecent. That is why I keep it on my desk.” (Reggie mastered a smile.) “It was found recently in the library. No doubt one of the girls having relations in India or Africa was given the thing as an odd savage trinket. She lost it and, recognizing that it was an undesirable thing, is afraid to claim it. As a matter of school discipline I am disturbed and annoyed. I cannot conceive that it concerns you, Mr. Fortune.” “It’s the only thing that interests me,” said Reggie. He was tired of the lady. “You don’t understand the question, madame. This isn’t the kind of trinket any one can pick up. It’s a jewel. This little lady”--he handled her affectionately--“she’s fifteen thousand years old. She’s palæolithic. There’s only a few of her in the world. Some Frenchman called her type the Hottentot Venus, because she’s a little like the women of that tribe. But the woman she was modelled on may have been an ancestor of yours or mine.” “I think not, Mr. Fortune.” Miss Lomas was horrified. “We have had time to improve on her, madame,” Reggie bowed. “This is the point. Outside national museums, there are only half a dozen collections which own one of these ladies. Who’s the quaint savant that gives them to a schoolgirl to play with? May I see the names of your girls?” “I only accept pupils with the highest references, sir,” said Miss Lomas, overawed but fuming. So Reggie was allowed to inspect her register. He studied it in vain. No name suggested connection with any of the few archaeologists likely to own a Hottentot Venus. He gave it up. “Well, sir?” Miss Lomas was triumphant and disdainful. “I am very much obliged to you for your courtesy. I regret exceedingly that I have troubled you with my affairs. I need not ask you to waste any more of your valuable time on the case that I foolishly submitted to you.” “But, my dear Miss Lomas, I’m just gettin’ interested,” said Reggie, with an engaging smile. “You know, my first thoughts were that your children had been ragging.” “Really, Mr. Fortune! Your way of putting things! Please understand that the girls in my school do not ‘rag’--as you call it. I think my sex leaves that to young men, Mr. Fortune.” “Women are so revoltin’ nowadays,” Reggie murmured. “I wonder--you have no new woman in the flock? No bold, bad rebel?” The face of Miss Lomas answered him. “I thought so. We must have the second solution. Somebody wanted somebody’s photograph.” “But why? Why should one girl want to steal photographs of the other girls? It’s nonsensical.” “Oh, it’s all nonsense,” Reggie agreed cheerfully. “It’s gibberish till we find the key. But here’s one odd thing for certain, the Hottentot Venus. I expect to find a lot more before we’ve done.” “Do you wish to alarm me, Mr. Fortune?”