Martin's Lane, and Dorrington now perceived that one side and half the back of his coat was dripping with wet mud. Also it was plain, as Dorrington had suspected, that his destination was Dorrington's own office in Bedford Street. So the follower broke into a trot, and at last came upon the muddy man wrenching at the bell and pounding at the closed door of the house in Bedford Street, just as the housekeeper began to turn the lock. "M'sieu Dorrington--M'sieu Dorrington!" the man exclaimed, excitedly, as the door was opened. "'E's gawn 'ome long ago," the caretaker growled; "you might 'a known that. Oh, 'ere 'e is though--good evenin', sir." "I am Mr. Dorrington," the inquiry agent said politely. "Can I do anything for you?" "Ah yes--it is important--at once! I am robbed!" "Just step upstairs, then, and tell me about it." Dorrington had but begun to light the gas in his office when his visitor broke out, "I am robbed, M'sieu Dorrington, robbed by my cousin--_coquin!_ Rrrobbed of everything! Rrrobbed I tell you!" He seemed astonished to find the other so little excited by the intelligence. "Let me take your coat," Dorrington said, calmly. "You've had a downer in the mud, I see. Why, what's this?" he smelt the collar as he went toward a hat-peg. "Chloroform!" "Ah yes--it is that rrrascal Jacques! I will tell you. This evening I go into the gateway next my house--Café des Bons Camarades--to enter by the side-door, and--paf!--a shawl is fling across my face from behind--it is pull tight--there is a knee in my back--I can catch nothing with my hand--it smell all hot in my throat--I choke and I fall over--there is no more. I wake up and I see my wife, and she take me into the house. I am all muddy and tired, but I feel--and I have lost my property--it is a diamond--and my cousin Jacques, he has done it!" "Are you sure of that?" "Sure? Oh yes--it is certain, I tell you--certain!" "Then why not inform the police?" The visitor was clearly taken aback by this question. He faltered, and looked searchingly in Dorrington's face. "That is not always the convenient way," he said. "I would rather that you do it. It is the diamond that I want--not to punish my cousin--thief that he is!" Dorrington mended a quill with ostentatious care, saying encouragingly as he did so, "I can quite understand that you may not wish to prosecute your cousin--only to recover the diamond you speak of. Also I can quite understand that there may be reasons--family reasons perhaps, perhaps others--which may render it inadvisable to make even the existence of the jewel known more than absolutely necessary. For instance, there may be other claimants, Monsieur Léon Bouvier." The visitor started. "You know my name then?" he asked. "How is that?"