Majendie paused. “The others are drawing rather far ahead of us. Shall we close up? Miss Cole, blessed girl! What energy! What a pace!”

They plodded a little faster.

“Why did she offer?” said Brett. “Was it by way of being—”

“A tip,” said Majendie with startling relish. “Commission, at its highest evaluation. Nearer the mark would be the tradesman’s Christmas box. The servant’s reward. Oh, I was under no illusions—am not, perhaps I should say—as to my status. I took it, dear boy, I took it. And when you called the other evening with news of the robbery, I regret—no I don’t why should I?—I admit that my first reaction was one of relief, that I’d taken away my reward and had it in safe keeping.”

“That’s an admission,” murmured Brett, “but no news. It showed on your face as plain as the nose in it.”

“Dear me!” Majendie sounded perturbed.

“And what about Common Law and the Common Man?” pursued Brett. “I suppose that was consulted to discover what legal title you had to a plain gift.”

“My dear boy, I must remark on the sharpness of your eyes—yes, and on the imagination shown in your guesswork. You’re right, I was somewhat worried. I knew, you see, that the unfortunate Ivan had seen the collection. The Princess told me so—not in the pleasantest manner, I fear—but you’ve thought of all that for yourself. If he had got wind of my visit, perhaps even been told of what had happened, and had pressed a claim—”

“Why didn’t you ask a solicitor?”

“But my dear fellow! Suppose my solicitor had told me I’d no right to it—he would have known I had it—”

“Look! They’ve stopped,” said Brett.

“Come on, dear boy!” cried Majendie, suddenly shooting forward with such vigour that Brett was almost pulled over. “I must be in at the kill.”

“This snow—” began Brett, then stopped. He had been going to comment on the facility now shown by Majendie in getting through it. But how many, and how shocking, had been the remarks of his which Majendie had magnanimously overlooked! “It reminds me of a paperweight,” he concluded tamely.

“Paperweight?” Majendie appeared to prick up his ears in the midst of his headlong flight.

“You know, the sort you pick up and shake to make a snowstorm inside.”

“Ah yes,” said Majendie indulgently, “charming, charming. Well, my dear Miss Cole?”

They had come up with the others. Mr. Cole and the Superintendent were grovelling in the snow. Stephanie held one torch and Beddoes two.

“Found the place?” asked Brett.

Stephanie flicked her hair. “Sergeant Beddoes noticed the snow was disturbed,” she said coldly.

“Well, it would have been different if there’d been another fall since you buried it,” said Beddoes, with astounding humility.

“Aha!” said the Superintendent, “here’s a strike. Steady on, the lights. Some more off your end, Cole, old man. That’s it—up she rises! Now, sir, is this your property?”

He held out the little dressing case.