"I don't know," he made answer, somewhat shamefacedly yet with a note of agony in his voice that made one pity him in spite of all. "But it seemed too horrible a disgrace to be lived through. And now I shall have to face it! Oh, my God, Ada, it is too much to ask a man to bear! They are there, on guard, those Hindus, protecting me and mine until the Ranee's steward comes to receive the Ladder of Light, as promised, at----" "Sh-h!" she struck in warningly, remembering the presence of the others, and clapping her hand over his mouth to stay any further admission; for she had heard Cleek repeat after her husband--but with a soft significant whistle--"The Ladder of Light!" and supplement that with, "Well, I'm dashed!" and turned round on him instantly with a forced smile upon her lips but the look of terror still lingering in her fast-winking eyes. "It is rude of me, gentlemen, to forget to thank you for your kind assistance, and I ask your forgiveness," she said. "I owe you many, many thanks and I am endeavouring to express them. But as this is merely a little family affair I am sure you will understand." It was a polite dismissal. Narkom pivoted his little fat body on his heel, and prepared to take it. Cleek didn't. "Your pardon, but the Ladder of Light can never be regarded as a family affair in _any_ English household whatsoever," he said, blandly. "I can give you its exact history if you wish it. It is a necklace said to have once been the property of the Queen of Sheba and worn by her at the court of King Solomon. It is made up of twelve magnificent steel-white diamonds, cut semi-square, and each weighing twenty-eight and one half carats. They are joined together by slender gold links fitting into minute holes pierced through the edge of each stone. It is valued at one million pounds sterling and is the property of the Ranee of Jhang, who prizes it above all other of her marvellous and priceless jewels. She is not a pleasant old lady to cross, the Ranee. She would be a shrieking devil if anything were to happen to that necklace, your ladyship." She had been slowly shrinking from him as the history of the Ladder of Light proceeded; now she leaned back against her husband, full of surprise and despairing terror, and stared and stared in a silence that was only broken by little fluttering breaths of alarm. "It is uncanny!" she managed to say at last. "You know of that? Of the necklace? You know even me?--us?--and yet I have not uncovered my face nor given you my name. Are you then gifted with clairvoyance, Mr.--Mr.----" "Cleek," he gave back, making her a polite bow. "Cleek is the name, Lady Leake. Cleek of Scotland Yard." "That man? Dear God! that amazing man?" she cried, her whole face lighting up, her drooping figure springing erect, revitalized.