And indeed no queen of ancient times could have looked more queenly than Isis Klaw--no Hatshepsu could have carried herself more regally. She wore a dark, close-fitting costume and ermine furs. In contrast to the snowy peltry, her large black eyes and perfect red lips rendered her a study for the brush of a painter, but, like her Oriental grace, defied the pen of the scribe. Moris Klaw’s daughter, her dazzling beauty enhanced by all the feminine arts of Paris, was a rare exotic one would not have sought in the neighbourhood of Wapping Old Stairs. But her father afforded a contrast at least as singular as her residence. Behind this seductive vision he appeared, enveloped in his caped coat, his yellow bearded face crowned by the brown bowler of Early Victorian pattern--indeed, apparently of Early Victorian manufacture. He peered at the taximeter through his gold-rimmed pince-nez. “Two and tenpence,” he rumbled, hoarsely. “That meter requires inspection, my friend. I have watched it popping up those two pennies, and I have perceived that it does so every time the cab bumps upon a drain-hole. I am to pay, then, for all the drains between Wapping and Moorgate Street. Here it is--three shillings. One and fourpence for the company and one and eightpence for yourself.” He turned aside, raising his hat. “Good morning, Mr. Searles! Good morning, Mr. Grimsby! I shall charge the City of London one and sixpence for drains. Let us walk on as far as the courtyard I see yonder, and you shall tell me all the facts before I interview those others, who will be, of course, so prejudiced by their misfortune.” We passed on, and many a clerkly glance followed the furry figure of Isis beneath the archway. Hemmed in by offices, a certain quietude prevailed in the courtyard. “It is a chilly morning,” said Moris Klaw; “but here we will stop and talk.” Accordingly Grimsby related the known facts of the case, more often addressing his story to the girl than to her father. “Yes, yes,” growled the latter, when the tale was told; “and this crying out--this screaming of murder--what occasioned it?” “That’s the mystery!” explained the detective. “I wish I had run out at once. I might have learned something. As it is, all I can find out amounts to nothing. The clerks and porters and other people who came flocking to the scene found no one here who knew anything about it!” “The screamer was missing, eh?” “Vanished! I can’t help thinking it was a ruse; though what anybody profited by it isn’t clear.” “It is not clear, you say?” rumbled Moris Klaw. “Ah! you have a fog of the mentality, my friend!” Grimsby flushed. “Of course,” he added, hurriedly, “I can see that it served to divert the attention of the people who ought to have been guarding the diamond. But as both the doors and the window were locked, how did it help to get the stone out of the office?” Moris Klaw pulled reflectively at his scanty beard. “We shall see,” he rumbled. “Let us ascend.”