His ironical politeness amused the other. “It was not a question of family,” he said. “I had no idea as to its ownership, only some person had been very careless--I found the necklace outside the safe. Some property had evidently been hidden in a hurry, and had fallen down.” “I am greatly obliged to you,” said Wallis. “You removed what might possibly have been a great temptation for the honest Mr. Timmings.” He took a key from his pocket, switched round the combination lock, and opened the safe. There was nothing in the first view to suggest that it was the storehouse of the most notorious thief in London. Every article therein had been most carefully wrapped and packed. He closed the door again. “That is only half the treasure,” he said. “Only half--what do you mean?” Gilbert was genuinely surprised, and a little mocking smile played about the mouth of the other. “I thought that would upset you,” he said. “That is only half. I will show you something. Since you know so much, why shouldn’t you know all?” He walked back into the office. A door led into another room. He unlocked this, and opening it passed through, Gilbert following. Inside was a small room lit by a skylight. The centre of the room was occupied by what appeared to be a large cage. It was in reality a steel grill, which is sometimes sold by French firms to surround a safe. “A pretty cage,” said Mr. Wallis admiringly. He unlocked the tiny steel gate and stepped through, and Gilbert stepped after him. “How did you get it in?” asked Gilbert curiously. “It was brought in in pieces, and has just been set up in order to show a customer. It is very easily taken apart, and two or three mechanics can clear it away in a day.” “Is this your other department?” asked Gilbert dryly. “In a sense it is,” said Wallis, “and I will show you why. If you go to the corner and pull down the first bar you will see something which perhaps you have never seen before.” Gilbert was half-way to the corner, when the transparency of the trick struck him. He turned quickly, but a revolver was pointed straight at his heart. “Put up your hands, Mr. Gilbert Standerton,” said George. “You may be perfectly bona fide in your intentions to share out, but I was thinking that I would rather finish to-night’s job before I relinquish business. You see, it will be poetic justice. Your uncle----” “My uncle!” said Gilbert. “Your uncle,” bowed the other, “an admirable but testy old gentleman, who in one of our best safes has deposited nearly a quarter of a million pounds’ worth of jewellery, the famous Standerton diamonds, which I suppose you will one day inherit.” “Is it not poetic justice,” he asked as he backed his way out, still covering his prisoner with his revolver, “to rob _you_ just a little? Possibly,” he went on, with grim humour, “I also may have a conscience, and may attempt to restore to you the property which to-night I shall steal.”