“Ah! he would add violence to his other crimes,” said Mr. David, hastily sheltering himself behind Mr. Samuel Stavanger’s more portly person. “Take care, Hugh, my boy! There is never any knowing how far these desperadoes will go when they are aroused. Mr. Gay, I insist upon your duty being done at once.” By this time Harley was calm again outwardly, but his calm was as that of the ocean which a deluge of rain is beating into a surface smoothness which the still heaving waters below would fain convert into mountainous breakers. Thief! Desperado! Was it possible that he was alluded to? He looked at the faces of those around him, and read condemnation in them all. Nay, there was at least one countenance which was impassive, one breast in which a trace of fairplay seemed to linger. He would appeal to the detective for an explanation of this horrible mystery. “Will you,” he began, in a voice whose steadiness and quietness surprised even himself, “will you tell me what is the matter? and why I am glared at as if I were a wild beast?” “Yes, pray go through the mockery of an explanation,” cried Mr. David. “Sir,” replied Mr. Gay, “it is by no means certain that an explanation would be a mockery in this case.” “Why, you yourself said everything pointed to this man’s guilt,” contended Mr. David. “Very likely,” was the dry reply. “I said that everything seemed to point to your manager’s guilt. But I did not say that it proved it. That is another thing, and slightly out of my province.” “And meanwhile,” said Harley, “I am still in the dark.” “There has been a robbery of a serious and extensive nature, and you are suspected of being the thief,” said the detective, carefully watching the face of the stricken Harley. “It is my duty to arrest you in the name of the law, and I warn you against saying anything that may be construed against you at the trial.” “Since when has this tremendous robbery taken place?” asked Harley. “Everything was secure when I left the premises last night at seven o’clock.” “Who was here when you left?” asked Mr. Lyon, taking part in the conversation for the first time. “No one, sir. The members of the firm had all left early. Mr. Hugh, to whom I usually hand the keys, being also gone, I locked all the cases up, lighted the gas, padlocked the door, delivered the door-key to the night-watchman, and took the keys of the safes to Mr. David Stavanger’s house. I put them into his own hands.” “That is quite true, so far as the delivery of the keys goes,” said Mr. David. “What I want to know is this--What have you done with the stones you abstracted before you locked the safes?” “Excuse me once more,” interrupted the detective, “you will have all necessary questions fully answered at the preliminary inquiry. Meanwhile Mr. Harley Riddell must consider himself a prisoner.” “You will permit me to send a message to my brother?” “Certainly.”