“The throne,” continued Paxton, who was becoming impressed as was evident by the uncanny sense of power which emanated in some way from Moris Klaw, “remains.” “And the statue--it was attached to it?” “As to the figure being attached, I may say that it was only partially so. Materials for completing the work were to have arrived to-day.” “How long would it have taken to detach it?” growled Klaw. “Granting some knowledge of the nature of the work, not long--for, as I have said, in this respect it was incomplete. Half an hour or so, I should have believed!” “Then,” I said, “the matter, in brief, stands thus: In the course of thirty seconds, during which time a constable was in view of one entrance and you were ten yards from the other, someone detached the statue from the throne--an operation involving half an hour’s skilled labour--and, unseen by yourself or the officer, removed it from the premises.” “Oh, the thing is impossible!” groaned Paxton. “There is something unearthly in the affair. I wish I had never set eyes upon that accursed girdle!” “Curse not the girdle,” rumbled Moris Klaw. “Curse instead its wearer, and inform us, on finding Nicris to be missing, what did you do?” “I hastily searched the studio. A brief investigation convinced me that neither statue nor thief was concealed there. I then came out, locked the door, and, having examined the garden, hailed the constable. He had been on duty for four hours at that point and had observed absolutely nothing of an unusual nature. He saw you fellows come out by the garden entrance, and from that time until I hailed him, nothing, he declared, had come in or gone out!” “He heard no cry?” “No; it was not loud enough to be audible from the corner.” “Lastly,” said Klaw, “have you informed Scotland Yard?” “No,” answered the sculptor; “nor will the constable lodge information; moreover, I withheld from him the object of my inquiries. If this business gets into the papers I shall be a ruined man!” “I have hopes,” Klaw assured him, “that it will get in no papers. Let us proceed now to the scene of these wonderful happenings. It is my custom, Mr. Paxton, to lay my old head down upon the scene of a mystery, and from the air I can sometimes recover the key to the labyrinth!” “So I have heard,” said Paxton. “You have heard so, yes? You shall see! Lead on, Mr. Paxton! No time must be wasted. I am another like Napoleon, and can sleep on an instant. I do not know insomnia! Lead on. Isis, my child, be careful that it brushes against no object in passing--my odically sterilized cushion!” We proceeded to the studio. “I feel that I am responsible for dragging you here at this unearthly hour,” said Paxton to Isis Klaw. She turned her fine eyes upon him. “My father is indebted for the opportunity,” she replied; “and since he has need of me, I am here. I, too, am indebted.”