[Illustration: "Hands up, or I'll shoot!" yelled the detective, as a fat, wild-eyed individual sprung from within.] Speechless with rage, he glowered from one to the other--then in response to their surprised inquiries broke into incoherent explanation. He had waited on guard some ten minutes after McAllister's departure, and Sophia had gone to her bedroom to finish dressing, when suddenly the expostulations of Morton had seemed to grow fainter. Finally they had died entirely away, and in their place had come terrible gasps and gurgles. He had remembered that there was no means of renewing the air supply in the closet, and had become alarmed. Presently all sounds had ceased. He was convinced that Morton was being suffocated. Opening the door, he had found the valet apparently lying there unconscious, and had dragged him forth, whereupon Morton had suddenly returned to life, and before he knew it had jammed him into the closet and locked the door. "He was most impertinent, too, when he got on the outside, I can assure you," concluded Lord Lyndhurst indignantly. "Gave me a lot of gratuitous advice!" McAllister and the detective endeavored to calm his troubled spirit, and soothe his ruffled dignity, informing him that the jewels had been in the hotel safe all the time. The Governor, however, refused to take any stock whatever in their explanation. Nothing of the sort could possibly have happened in England. It took them an hour to persuade him that they were not lying. The only things that appeared to convince him at all were the disappearance of Morton, a large bump on his own forehead, and the actual presence of the jewelry in the safe downstairs. Even then he sent to Tiffany's for a man to examine it. Barney he regarded with unconcealed suspicion, subjecting him to an exhaustive cross-examination upon his antecedents and occupation. The Governor declared he was astounded at his impudence. The idea of opening his private luggage! He would address a communication to the authorities! It was little better than grand larceny. It _was_ grand larceny, by Jupiter! Hadn't Conville abstracted the jewels _vi et armis_? Of _course_ he had! Damme, he would see if the sacred rights of an English official should be trampled on! It was _trespass_ anyway--_Trespass ab initio_! Did Conville know that? It was grand larceny _and_ trespass. He would lock him up. Barney grinned, and the Governor again became almost apoplectic. He snorted scornfully at the detective's explanation about this Jerry "What-do-you-call-him--the Clam." Pooh! Did they expect him to believe _that_? Conville was a confounded, hair-brained busybody--He dwindled off, exhausted. At that moment there came a sharp rap upon the door, and an officer in roundsman's uniform entered. "Gentleman called at the precinct house and reported a jewelry theft in this suite. Said the thief had been caught and locked up in a closet, so I thought I'd drop over and see how things stood."