“Ah! she has courage, but her fears are many. Most of all she dreads that you will _touch_ her! You do not. And Jean, the ivory statue safe at Clapham, returns for Nina. He comes into the doctor’s drive by the farther gate--where the point-policeman cannot see him. He wears rubber shoes. He mounts to the studio roof. He lies flat upon the ledge above the door. His voice is falsetto. He calls, ‘Nicris!’ “Presently, you come out. You peep over the wall. Ah! out, also, is Madame! She stretches up her white arms--so like the real ivory!--he stretches down his steel hands. He raises her beside him! Name of a dog, he is strong! “Why to the roof and not over the wall? The path is of gravel and her feet are bare. On the roof, to prove me correct, upon the grime are marks of small bare feet; are marks of men’s rubber shoes; are, halfway along, marks of smaller rubber shoes--which he had brought for Nina. He has forethought. They retire by the farther gate of your neighbour’s drive. “No doubt he bring her furs as well--no doubt. But she contracts a chill, no wonder! Ah! he is cool, he is daring, he is a great man----” A maid entered the studio. “A gentleman to see you, sir.” “Ask him to come along here.” A short interval--and Jean Colette entered, hat in hand! “These two wedges, m’sieur”--he bowed to Paxton--“which help to attach the girdle. I forgot to return them. Adieu!” He placed the wedges on a table and, amid a dramatic silence, withdrew. Moris Klaw took out the cylindrical scent spray from the lining of the brown bowler. “A true touch of Paris!” he rumbled. “Did I not say he was a great man?” FIFTH EPISODE. CASE OF THE BLUE RAJAH I Inspector Grimsby called upon me one evening, wearing a great glumness of countenance. “Look here,” said he, “I’m in a bit of a corner. You’ll have heard that a committee of commercial magnates has been formed to buy, and on behalf of the City of London to present to the Crown, the big Indian diamond?” I nodded and pushed the box of cigarettes toward him. “Well,” he continued, thoughtfully selecting one, “they are meeting in Moorgate Street to-morrow morning to complete the deal and formally take over the stone. Sir Michael Cayley, the Lord Mayor, will be present, and he’s received a letter, which has been passed on to me.” He fumbled for his pocket-case. Grimsby is a man who will go far. He is the youngest detective-inspector in the service, and he has that priceless gift--the art of using other people for the furtherance of his own ends. I do not intend this criticism unkindly. Grimsby does nothing dishonourable and seeks to rob no man of the credit that may be due. There is nothing underhand about Grimsby, but he is exceedingly diplomatic. He imparts official secrets to me with an ingenuousness entirely disarming--but always for reasons of his own. “Here you are,” he said, and passed a letter to me. It read as follows: “_To the Right Hon. the Lord Mayor of London._ “My Lord: