“No, indeed,” said Mr. Warrell, shaking his head, “I regret to say we have no clue. The police have the matter in hand, but I’m afraid we shall never find the man, or men, who perpetrated the crime.” “I don’t suppose they would be of much service to you if you found them,” said Gilbert quietly. “I don’t know,” demurred the other. “We might possibly get the jewels back.” Gilbert Standerton laughed, but stopped in the middle of it. “Jewels?” he said. “Don’t you remember, Gilbert?” Leslie broke in. “I told you that we had a necklace in the safe, the property of a client, one of those gambling ladies who patronise us.” A warning glance from his partner arrested him. The gambling lady herself was rather red, and shot a malevolent glance at the indiscreet young man. “The necklace was mine,” she said acidly. “Oh!” said Leslie, and found the conversation of no great interest to him. Gilbert did not smile at his friend’s embarrassment. “A necklace,” he repeated, “how curious--yours?” “Mine,” repeated Mrs. Cathcart. “I placed it with Warrell’s for security. Precious fine security it proved,” she added. Warrell was all apologies. He was embarrassed for more reasons than one. He was very annoyed indeed with the indiscreet youth who owed his preponderant interest in the firm the more by reason of his dead father’s shares in the business than to any extent to his intelligence or his usefulness. “Exactly what kind of necklace was it?” continued Gilbert. “I did not see a description.” “No description was given,” said Mr. Warrell, coming to the relief of his client, whom he knew from infallible signs was fast losing her temper. “We wished to keep the matter quiet, so that it should not get into the papers.” Edith tactfully turned the conversation, and in a few minutes they were deep in the discussion of a question which has never failed to excite great interest--the abstract problem of the church. Mrs. Cathcart, it may be remarked in passing, was a churchwoman of some standing, a leader amongst a certain set, and an extreme ritualist. Add to this element the broad Nonconformity of Mr. Warrell, the frank scepticism of Leslie, and there were all the ingredients for an argument, which in less refined circles might develop to a sanguinary conclusion. Edith at least was relieved, however drastic the remedy might be, and was quite prepared to disestablish the Church of Wales, or if necessary the Church of England, rather than see the folly of her mother exposed. Despite argument, dogmatism of Mrs. Cathcart, philippic of Leslie, and the good-natured tolerance of Mr. Warrell, this latter a most trying attitude to combat, the dinner ended pleasantly, and they adjourned to the little drawing-room upstairs. “I’m afraid I shall have to leave you,” said Gilbert. It was nearly ten o’clock, and he had already warned his wife of an engagement he had made for a later hour.