“Quite so,” said Westerham, with a smile, “cleared up with the assistance of Mr. Rookley. No, thank you very much for your kind offer, but I will clear the matter up for myself. In the meantime, as I see no reason why you should detain me, I will not detain you. Allow me to wish you good-day.” Without another word he walked into his bedroom and shut the door sharply. When Westerham told Rookley that he had no conception of the identity of his mysterious visitor he spoke the truth; nor, cudgel his brains as he might, could he advance any theory which satisfied him. It seemed that the best thing he could do was to send for Melun. The captain, he reflected, was more acquainted with this sort of dealing than he was, and might possibly throw some light on the matter. So for Melun he sent. The captain came with a bad grace at about eight o'clock. He had already seen in the evening papers various accounts of the ransacking of Westerham's rooms. Westerham began by detailing to him the conversation with the detective, to every word of which the captain listened with a great attention, here and there putting in a question which quite convinced Sir Paul that Melun knew nothing of the affair. However, he was determined to see what Melun would say if he asked him point blank whether he had been playing the burglar. Upon the question being put to him, Melun laughed quite easily and shrugged his shoulders. “My dear fellow,” he said, “once bitten, twice shy. My attempt to burgle you on the _Gigantic_ was not so successful as to tempt me to repeat the performance. Besides, I am a fairly good judge of my fellow-men, and I have given up all hope of discovering anything in your past or your present which would lead me to the delectable state of being able to dictate to you.” “Thank you,” said Westerham, “that is at least frank.” “I am learning,” returned Melun, “that it is scarcely worth while to be anything else with you.” “Thank you again,” said Westerham. “And now suppose I ask you whether you can throw any light on the subject?” “Now,” said Melun, “you are asking a really sensible question. I can. What is more, I think I can completely clear up the mystery for you.” “So you did have a hand in it, after all?” cried Westerham. “Well, yes, I had a hand in it; but I took no part in the actual burgling.” Sir Paul stared at him in amazement. “What do you mean?” he demanded. “First of all,” said Melun, “what was the description of the mysterious stranger given by your valet?” “Very tall, very thin, with reddish hair and reddish moustache, and, so far as he could see through the mask on his face, grey eyes. His hands, as Blyth had good reason to notice, were very large and sunburnt, with uncommonly well-kept nails.” Melun nodded his head. “Good,” he said, “the description tallies exactly with the gentleman I suspected of having been here this afternoon.