When I got back with the paper and pills, the advertisement was finished. It concluded with an offer of £5 reward. Applications to be made to Mr. Sergeant Cripp, or to Squire Todhetley of Crabb Cot. And, leaving it at the offices of the _Herald_, _Journal_, and _Chronicle_, we returned home. It would appear on the next day, Saturday; to the edification, no doubt, of Sergeant Cripp. "Any news of the earring?" was the Squire's first question when we got in. No, there was no news of it, Mrs. Todhetley answered. And she had sent Luke Macintosh over to the little hamlet, Islip; who reported when he came back that there was no Mrs. Nutt, or Nutten, known there. "Just what I expected," observed the pater. "That woman was a thieving tramp, and she has the earring." * * * * * Saturday passed over, and Sunday came. When the Worcester paper arrived on Saturday morning the advertisement was in it as large as life, and the pater read it out to us. Friday and Saturday had been very dull, with storms of snow; on Sunday the sun shone again, and the air was crisp. It was about three o'clock, and we were sitting at the dessert-table cracking filberts, for on Sundays we always dined early, after morning service--when Thomas came in and said a stranger had called, and was asking if he could see Mrs. Todhetley. But the mater, putting a shawl over her head and cap, had just stepped over to sit a bit with sick Mrs. Coney. "Who is it, Thomas?" asked the Squire. "A stranger! Tell him to send his name in." "His name's Eccles, sir," said Thomas, coming back again. "He comes, he says, from Sergeant Cripp." "My goodness!--it must be about the earring," cried the Squire. "That it is, sir," said old Thomas. "The first word he put to me was an inquiry whether you had heard news of it." I followed the pater into the study. Tod did not leave his filberts. Standing by the fire was a tall, well-dressed man, with a black moustache and blue silk necktie. I think the Squire was a little taken aback at the fashionable appearance of the visitor. He had expected to see an ordinary policeman. "Have you brought tidings of Mrs. Todhetley's earring?" began the pater, all in a flutter of eagerness. "I beg a thousand pardons for intruding upon you on a Sunday," returned the stranger, cool and calm as a cucumber, "but the loss of an hour is sometimes most critical in these cases. I have the honour, I believe, of speaking to Squire Todhetley?" The Squire nodded. "Am I mistaken in supposing that you come about the earring?" he reiterated. "I understood my servant to mention Sergeant Cripp. But--you do not, I presume, belong to the police force?" "Only as a detective officer," was the answer, given with a taking smile. "A _private_ officer," he added, putting a stress upon the word. "My name is Eccles."