As thus. "Were you in that celebrated case, officer, of the Downshire diamonds? Another jewel robbery, Miss Smith! Curious how history repeats itself. They'd got every bit of circumstantial evidence to show that the tiara had been stolen and broken up by a young maid-servant in the house. The 'tecs were hanging themselves all over with whatever's their equivalent for the D.S.O., for having got her, when the butler owned up and showed where he'd put the thing, untouched and wrapped up in a workman's red handkerchief, in an old dhry well in the grounds. Mustn't it make a man feel he ought to sing very small when he's been caught out in a little thing like that?" "That's so," said Mr. Hiram P. Jessop, with a tone in his voice of positive gratitude. Gratitude, to the man whom he'd been blackening and showing up, this very afternoon! Together they seemed to be making common cause against the detective, who was rushing Miss Million up to town and to durance vile! The detective said less than any man with whom I've ever spent the same length of time. But I believe he took it all in! "Then there were the Ballycool murders, when they were as near as dash it to hanging the wrong man," pursued Mr. James Burke. "Of course, that was when my grandfather was a boy. So that particular show-up would be before your time, officer, possibly." "Eighteen Sixty-Two, sir," said the detective briefly. "Ah, yes, I remember," mused the Honourable Jim, who, I suppose, must have been born about Eighteen Hundred and Eighty-Seven himself. "Ah, yes; but then, some aspects of life, and love, and law don't seem to alter much, do they?" "That's correct, Mr. Burke," said Mr. Hiram P. Jessop again in his most empressé American. "Then," pursued the ineffable Irish voice as we whizzed along, "there's that case of the Indian tray that was missing from that wealthy bachelor's rooms--but I misremember the exact end of that story. "Plenty of them on record in this country as well as America. I daresay you agree with me, Jessop?" Mr. Jessop, sitting there in the hurrying car, seemed to be agreeing with everything that Mr. Burke chose to say. The young American, from what glimpses I caught of his firm, short, Dana-Gibson-like profile against the blue night sky, was full of the tenderest and most rueful concern for the little cousin who was involved in this pretty kettle of fish. His broad, though padded, form was sitting very close to the minute, dejected figure of Miss Million, who had gradually ceased to shudder and to whimper "Oh, lor'! Oh, my! Oh, whatever is going to happen to us now!" as she had done at the beginning of the journey. She was, I realised, a little cheered and encouraged now. From a movement that I had noticed under Miss Vi Vassity's sable motor-rug I guessed that Mr. Jessop had taken his cousin's hand, and that he was holding it as we drove. Well, after all, why shouldn't he? They are cousins.