"You can argue that out with the magistrate to-morrow, my lord," said the detective. "Here are the warrants, and I'm going to execute them. If the proceedings are not in order, you can claim reparation in the usual way. Now, gentlemen, please. If you will give your word to come quietly you will save time and trouble." "Does the Home Secretary know of this?" asked the Duke. "We don't report police court details to the Home Secretary," said Marvell, acidly. "No, sir, he doesn't." "Then I demand to see him before these warrants are executed," said Dorchester. "Impossible, your Grace," said Marvell, who twice before had been defrauded of his legitimate prey. Not again was he going to run the risk of undue favour staying the hand of Justice. He had now in his possession a batch of prisoners so notable that next day his name would ring from one end of the world to the other. "Impossible," was the obvious reply. "May I write a letter?" asked the Duke. "No, your Grace, you may not," replied Marvell firmly. "You are now a prisoner, and you will please come with me without more delay. Now, gentlemen, will you pass your words to come quietly? You can cause trouble if you like, but we are more than equal to you in numbers, so there could only be one end to the matter." Dorchester consulted Ribston and the Secretary. The others nodded reluctant consent. Word was given, and they passed out. The house doors were flung open, and they filed into the street, where a dozen hansoms were in line, a dozen policemen in waiting, and a small but inevitable crowd had collected. "Ask Colonel Altamont to see the Home Secretary at once," said Dorchester to his butler, as he was helped into his coat. The old man stood there petrified by the horror of the proceedings. He had been in the family for generations. Three Dukes of Dorchester had he known in all their glory. Kings, Queens, and Potentates had flitted in and out of the ducal mansion with his masters, and now he had lived to see the last of the line taken away like a thief, for some terrible crime. He heard the Duke's words to him, but they conveyed no impression to his brain. He did not reply. The police, the bustle in the hall, the crowd outside, the driving away of the prisoners, all was as a horrible nightmare to him. "His Grace said you were to tell Colonel Altamont to go at once to the Home Secretary, Mr. Bolton," said the footman, who had held the Duke's coat. "Ha!" said Bolton, waking from his stupor. He caught hold of a hat, and ran out of the house. Altamont had not been able to be present that evening. Business of importance had detained him, and he had only just got back to his rooms when Bolton turned up. He started off at once to the Home Secretary, and after exasperating interviews with a footman, a butler, and a private secretary, was at length admitted to the presence of that high personage, who was in his dressing gown, and considerably annoyed at this interruption to his slumbers.