Lewinstein grunted, though the rest of the table had some word of applause for the genius and prescience of the little man. “I think that’s rather unnecessary,” said Lewinstein, his practical mind revolting from anything which had a touch of the theatrical; “but I suppose you know your own business best.” “You suppose rightly,” snapped Claythorpe, who was not used to having his judgment or his wisdom questioned. “I can only warn you,” said the persistent Lewinstein, “that in Four Square Jane you are dealing with a person who wouldn’t be stopped if you had fifty safes, and a policeman sitting on top of every one of them.” “Four Square Jane!” scoffed his lordship, “don’t worry about her! I have a detective here----” Mr. Lewinstein laughed a bitter little laugh. “So had I,” he said shortly. “A female detective, may I ask?” “Of course not. I’ve got the best man from Scotland Yard,” said Lord Claythorpe. “What I should like to know is this,” said the other lowering his voice, “have you any kind of suspicious woman in the house?” “What do you mean, sir?” demanded Lord Claythorpe bridling. “Can you account for all your lady guests? There are a dozen here to-night. Do you know them all?” “Every one of them,” said his lordship promptly. “Of course, I wouldn’t have strangers in the house at this moment. I have dear Joyce’s wedding presents----” “That’s what I’m thinking about,” said Mr. Lewinstein. “Would you mind if I had a little look round myself?” There was a sneer on Lord Claythorpe’s thin lips. “Turning detective, Joe?” he asked. “Something like that,” said Lewinstein. “I’ve been bitten myself, and I know just where it hurts.” Lewinstein was given the run of the big house in Belgrave Square, and that evening he made one or two important discoveries. The first was that “the best detective from Scotland Yard” was a private detective, and although not a Headquarters’ officer, still a man of unquestionable honesty and experience, who had been employed by his lordship before. “It’s not much of a job,” admitted the detective. “I have to sit with my back to the door of his study all night long. His lordship doesn’t like anybody in the study itself--what’s that?” he asked suddenly. They were standing within half a dozen paces of the library door, and the detective’s sensitive ears had caught a sound. “I heard nothing,” said Lewinstein. “I swear I heard a sound inside that room. Do you mind staying here while I go for his lordship?” “Why don’t you go in?” asked the other. “Because his lordship keeps the library door locked,” grinned the detective. “I won’t keep you waiting long, sir.” He found Lord Claythorpe playing bridge, and brought that nobleman along, an agitated and alarmed figure. With shaking hands he inserted the key in the lock of the heavy door and swung it open. “You go in first, officer,” he said nervously. “You’ll find the switch on the right-hand side.”