It was a day of enquiries which led nowhere and Michael returned that night to town, weary and sick at heart. Nevertheless, he had the dim beginnings of a theory which, however, he refused to communicate to his chief. “It is rather fantastic,” he excused himself, “but then, the whole thing is fantastic. It is obviously impossible to steal a railway train and carry it through the streets of London without somebody being attracted by the novelty of the spectacle.” “Will you see Sir Ralph?” asked T.B. “He has been waiting here for an hour to meet you.” “Hasn’t he got a home?” asked Michael irritably. He saw the distracted baronet but could offer him little hope. “It is impossible they can get away with it,” said Sir Ralph; “my expert tells me that it will take them two days to break through the steel walls whatever they use.” A thought struck Michael. “Have you a large scale map of your southern railway system?” he asked. “I will have it sent round to you to-night,” said the baronet. “What chance do you think there is?” he asked anxiously. “I think a very poor chance,” said Michael frankly; “you see, Kate doesn’t take any risk.” “Kate?” said the baronet. “You call her the ‘Princess Bacheffski.’ Flanborough calls her ‘Miss Tenby.’ As ‘Miss Tenby’ she secured Flanborough’s code and through some of her agents in the telegraph office learned about the shipment. As ‘Princess Bacheffski’ she wheedled the whole of your wonderful scheme for bringing gold from Seahampton and probably discovered the nature of the steel you use.” “Good heavens!” Sir Ralph sank into a chair and turned pale. “You don’t mean to tell me--?” “That is what I mean to tell you. Didn’t you realize that the whole thing was a put up job? Why should the car of the Princess break down at your front door?” “But she was so beautifully dressed.” “Why shouldn’t she be beautifully dressed?” asked Michael mercilessly; “she probably carried twenty thousand pounds’ worth of diamonds. Wasn’t it worth it? Didn’t you give her information which she could not have bought for the money?” “Then you mean to say that she is a common swindler?” “She is a very _un_common swindler,” said Michael. “There’s only one thing that puzzles me,” he said, half to himself; “what did she want of Reggie?” Mr. Reginald Boltover was interrupted in the delicate business of dressing for dinner by a peremptory demand that an officer of Scotland Yard should be admitted. He was relieved to discover that it was nothing more formidable than Michael. “I have come to ask you about your friend Vera.” Mr. Boltover winced. “My dear fellow,” he said, “don’t mention that lady’s name. It is a sore subject. Don’t mention her, dear old fellow, don’t.” “Don’t be an ass,” said Michael good-humouredly; “you must give me an idea of the questions which she asked you. What did she talk about?” But Mr. Boltover’s mind was a blank. It was his boast that he did not know there was such a thing as yesterday.