Upon this, Massenger sent off express to telegraph for Lord Guttleborough, and next morning the great man arrived soon after breakfast. He was closeted with the Doctor for more than an hour, and then the two came into the room where we were sitting. Cubleigh seemed utterly flabbergasted at the unlooked-for appearance of his father, but he put on a sickly smile as he went up to greet him. “No, sir,” cried my Lord, in a terrible voice, “don’t attempt to speak to me; I’ll bandy no words with you; but come up into your bedroom at once. And you,” he added, turning to me, “having, as I understand, been present at another search for stolen goods, I have thought it right to ask Dr. Massenger’s permission to request your Grace to come upstairs a second time for a similar purpose.” All I could do, though I confess I was dying of curiosity, was to bow assent, and then up we all went into Cubleigh’s room. Lord Guttleborough seemed in no mood to spare his son. He compelled him to rummage out even the smallest articles. Once, in a sudden fit of fury, he tore down a photograph from the wall, and crushed it, frame and all, under his feet. At length we came to Cubleigh’s desk. “Open that,” said my Lord, sternly. Cubleigh obeyed, and ostentatiously threw out all the contents upon the table. “I don’t know what you expect to find,” said he; “but I hope you are satisfied now.” Lord Guttleborough gave a sigh, as if of relief. Dr. Massenger looked puzzled. “I suppose I may put these things back now?” said Cubleigh; and as he spoke I noticed a look of exultation upon his pale countenance. As no one answered, he moved the desk, when, as he did so, a rattling sound was heard, and the hand that held it trembled visibly. “Ha! what’s that?” cried Lord Guttleborough. “Give that desk to me.” The son obeyed, trembling more and more as he did so. “Secret drawers!” almost screamed my Lord, and as he shook the desk violently, the rattling increased, and then a secret drawer fell out, and disclosed a number of diamonds picked out of their setting, the gold setting in a paper by itself, and--what do you think, Manwaring?--why, no less than forty-nine gold coins, the very number wanting to make up the tale of those stolen from Mr. Wilmot. There was a dead silence for a few moments, and then Dr. Massenger ejaculated the word, “Kleptomania!”