It was not a police station! It was merely a rather large and plain-fronted empty house, which had been transformed into a police station, for one night only, by means of a lamp, a desk, two forms, a few handcuffs, and some unparalleled cheek. Jewel thieves they were, but Susan Berry was not among them. After all Susan Berry probably had an invalid sister named Jane Mary. The first policeman, the cabman, the second policeman, the inspector--these were the jewel thieves, and Susan Berry and I (and of course the Marchioness) had been the victims of as audacious and brilliant a robbery as was ever planned. We had been robbed openly, quietly, deliberately, with the aid of a sham police station. Our movements must have been watched for weeks. I gave my meed of admiration to the imagination, the skill, and the _sangfroid_ which must have gone to the carrying out of this coup. Going back into the room where Susan Berry and I had spent the night hours, I found that wronged woman sweetly asleep on the form, with her back against the wall. I dared not wake her. And so I left her for the present to enjoy some much-needed repose. I directed my steps in search of Eaton Square, having closed the great door of my police station. At length I found my whereabouts, and I arrived at No. 441 at five o’clock precisely. The morning was lovely. After some trouble I roused a housemaid, who let me in. She seemed surprised, but I ignored her. I went straight upstairs and knocked at my master’s door. To wake him had always been a difficult matter, and this morning the task seemed more difficult than ever. At last he replied sleepily to my summons. “It is I--Saunders--your lordship.” “Go to the devil, then.” “I must see your lordship instantly. Very seriously.” “Eh, what? I’ll come in a minute,” and I heard him stirring, and the voice of Lady Trent. How should I break the news to him? What would the Marchioness say when she knew? Twelve thousand pounds’ worth of jewels is no trifle. Not to mention my gold watch, my two sovereigns, my sixpence, and my two halfpennies. And also the half-crown which I had given to have the message despatched to his lordship. It was the half-crown that specially rankled. Lord Trent appeared at the door of his room, arrayed in his crimson dressing-gown. “Well, Saunders, what in the name of----” “My lord,” I stammered, and then I told him the whole story. He smiled, he laughed, he roared. “I daresay it sounds very funny, my lord,” I said, “but it wasn’t funny at the time, and Lady Cockfosters won’t think it very funny.” “Oh, won’t she! She will. No one will enjoy it more. She might have taken it seriously if the emeralds had been in the bag, but they weren’t.” “Not in the bag, my lord!”