"Why should they?" Faulkner asked, in surprise. "There's no reason why they should," I answered "I only say they will. You don't know Rutland county people--or you wouldn't ask." Vera's lunch-party had proved a great success. The four of us had been in the best of spirits. And yet, once, at least, during the meal, Paulton's face, dark, threatening, floated into my imagination, and again I heard that ominous threat he had uttered in Paris that night, the last words I had heard him speak-- "I shall be even with you soon, in a way you don't expect." Where was he at this moment? What plot was he hatching? Had he left Paris? Was he in London? Would he and the Baronne try to get Violet away from Faulkner by force? Though now we were all so light-hearted, I could not help thinking of Paulton and the Baronne, and wondering what their next clever move would be. It was not to be supposed they would remain dormant. They were probably lying "doggo," in order to spring with greater force. During the same week I looked in again at Rodney Street on my policeman, who expressed himself delighted to see me. Some days had now passed since I had forced my way into the house in Belgrave Street during the night. I was wondering what had happened there since; whether lights had been seen again; whether anybody else had been into the place; or if the body and the gold had been removed. When he had pushed forward his most comfortable chair, and I had seated myself in it, the constable said: "I have some news for you to-day, sir." "News?" I exclaimed. "What kind of news?" "Well, simply this, sir. All them sacks of money has been removed, but the mummy has been left just where it was. The police have possession of it now." "When did they take possession of it?" I asked quickly, starting up. "Yesterday. Mr. Spink, in whose hands the house is during Sir Charles Thorold's absence, went there. I see him when he comes out, and I never in my life see a man look so white and scared. He found the body lying there, of course, also all the furniture pushed about, and the great hole cut in the ceiling. When he came out he was as terrible pale, and shivering with excitement. It was about three in the afternoon. He called me at once, and I went in with the man on point-duty. Everything was much as when you and me saw it, sir, only there wasn't no money." "Then of course Whichelo and Sir Charles have taken it away. I wonder at their leaving the body, though. Such a give-away, isn't it? Did the police find out how the men entered and left the house?" "I found that out, sir--quite by charnce. There's a way into a cellar we didn't know of, and that cellar leads into the cellar of the house adjoining, which is empty. That's the way they went in and out. It was easy to see as how somebody had been to and fro that way." "Do the police know anything of the money?" I asked. "Didn't they see any sign of it at all?"