"So you 'ave come." In moments of stress he was apt to lose his usual meticulous command of the English language. "You 'ave come at last." "It is less than ten minutes since I got your message," observed the inspector. "Ach!" Mr. Gertstein flung his hands wide in an expressive gesture, as of one who accepts an excuse in which there is no body. He rotated round the room, buzzing like an agitated wasp. "An hour. Dis is what I pay for," he proclaimed. "For dis I pay my thousands a year to the rates for police salaries. What protection do I get for it? None." He waved a podgy hand. "All the work of the finest craftsmen in the world stripped from me. You will get it back, eh?" Labar felt that it was only the vulgarity of the expression that prevented Gertstein from adding, "I don't think." He lifted his eyebrows. "You are insured?" The other gave an impatient snort. "Insured! What is insurance to me? Do you think that I--Gertstein--want the money? That--poof--a fleabite. The insurance companies will pay, but will that help me to get back all my beautiful things? Years and years of work gone like dat." He snapped his fingers viciously. "We'll do our best," said Labar, mildly. "Perhaps you will walk round with me and tell me all you know." In his mind he felt small hope. The very magnitude of the crime showed it to be the work of men who thoroughly understood their business. Jewels would be dismounted and cut up, gold melted down, and other things rendered unrecognisable in the swiftest and most efficient fashion. Other of the C.I.D. men from Labar's division were in the house by this time, and under his supervision a systematic and thorough search of the premises proceeded. It was a big rambling place, and it was obvious that the thieves, once they had obtained entrance, would have had no difficulty in secreting themselves till such time as they could work unobserved. As Labar expected, every burglar alarm in the place had been cut or put out of action in some way. The thieves must have gained precise information beforehand. On the first floor two magnificent rooms had been given up to the display of Gertstein's treasures. The chastely-designed glass cases still stood in their imposing splendour, but alas, they were mere cenotaphs with their treasures vanished. At a superficial glance, indeed, it was difficult to realise that they had been tampered with, so delicate had been the skill with which they had been opened. As Gertstein pointed out with some bitterness, the marauders had selected their spoil with the most consummate judgment. It was obvious that the raid had been carried through to clean-cut specifications. There were many dainty bits of artistry left, but they were such things as enamels, ivory carvings and the like, which had value only for their craftsmanship, and would be difficult to dispose of intact.