“One moment,” said the Chief, “could she have handed it through the window to somebody else?” Peter shook his head. “I have thought of that,” he said, “but the windows were closed and there was a wire-netting which made that method of disposal impossible. No, by some means or other she got the picture out under the noses of the attendants. Then she came out and announced innocently that she could not find the Romney picture--naturally there was a wild rush to the saloon. For three minutes no notice was being taken of the ‘child’.” “Do you think one of the attendants was in collusion?” “That is also possible,” said Peter, “but every man has a record of good, steady service. They’re all married men and none of them has the slightest thing against him.” “And what will she do with the picture? She can’t dispose of it,” protested the Chief. “She’s after the reward,” said Peter with a smile, “I tell you, Chief, this thing has put me on my mettle. Somehow, I don’t think I’ve got my hand on Jane yet, but I’m living on hopes.” “After the reward,” repeated the Chief; “that’s pretty substantial. But surely you are going to fix her when she hands the picture over?” “Not on your life,” replied Peter, and took out of his pocket a telegram and laid it on the table before the other. It read: “The Romney will be returned on condition that Mr. Tresser undertakes to pay the sum of five thousand pounds to the Great Panton Street Hospital for Children. On his signing an agreement to pay this sum, the picture will be restored. “Jane.” “What did Tresser say about that?” “Tresser agrees,” answered Peter, “and has sent a note to the secretary of the Great Panton Street Hospital to that effect. We are advertising the fact of his agreement very widely in the newspapers.” At three o’clock that afternoon came another telegram, addressed this time to Peter Dawes--it annoyed him to know that the girl was so well informed that she was aware of the fact that he was in charge of the case. “I will restore the picture at eight o’clock to-night. Be in the picture gallery, and please take all precautions. Don’t let me escape this time--The Four Square Jane.” The telegram was handed in at the General Post Office. Peter Dawes neglected no precaution. He had really not the faintest hope that he would make the capture, but it would not be his fault if Four Square Jane were not put under lock and key. A small party assembled in the gloomy hall of Mr. Tresser’s own house. Dawes and two detective officers, Mr. Tresser himself--he sucked at a big cigar and seemed the least concerned of those present--the three attendants, and a representative of the Great Panton Street Hospital were there. “Do you think she’ll come in person?” asked Tresser. “I would rather like to see that Jane. She certainly put one over on me, but I bear her no ill-will.”