"Everything, madame: it was I who stole them."

"You? You are, then, that Lone Wolf?"

"I was, madame."

"Why the past tense?" the woman demanded, eyeing him with a portentous frown.

"Because I am done with thieving."

She threw back her head and laughed, but without mirth: "A likely story, monsieur! Have you reformed since I caught you here----?"

"Does it matter when? I take it that proof, visible, tangible proof of my sincerity, more than a meaningless date, would be needed to convince you."

"No doubt of that, Monsieur the Lone Wolf!"

"Could you ask better proof than the restoration of your stolen property?"

"Are you trying to bribe me to let you off with an offer to return my jewels?"

"I'm afraid emergency reformation wouldn't persuade you----"

"You may well be afraid, monsieur!"

"But if I can prove I've already restored your jewels----?"

"But you have not."

"If madame will do me the favour to open her safe, she will find them there--conspicuously placed."

"What nonsense----!"

"Am I wrong in a.s.suming that madame didn't return from England until quite recently?"

"But today, in fact----"

"And you haven't troubled to investigate your safe since returning?"

"It had not occurred to me----"

"Then why not test my statement before denying it?"

With an incredulous shrug Madame Omber terminated a puzzled scrutiny of Lanyard's countenance, and turned to the safe.

"But to have done what you declare you have," she argued, "you must have known the combination--since it appears you haven't broken this open."

The combination ran glibly off Lanyard's tongue. And at this, with every evidence of excitement, at length beginning to hope if not to believe, the woman set herself to open the safe. Within a minute she had succeeded, the morocco-bound jewel-case was in her hand, and a hasty examination had a.s.sured her its treasure was intact.

"But why----?" she stammered, pale with emotion--"why, monsieur, _why_?"

"Because I decided to leave off stealing for a livelihood."

"When did you bring these jewels here?"

"Within the week--four or five nights since----"

"And then--repented, eh?"

"I own it."

"But came here again tonight, to steal a second time what you had stolen once?"

"That's true, too."

"And I interrupted you----"

"Pardon, madame: not you, but my better self. I came to steal--I could not."

"Monsieur--you do not convince. I fail to fathom your motives, but----"

A sudden shock of heavy trampling feet in the reception-hall, accompanied by a clash of excited voices, silenced her and brought Lanyard instantly to the face-about.

Above that loud wrangle--of which neither had received the least warning, so completely had their argument absorbed them--Sidonie's accents were audible:

"Madame--madame!"--a cry of protest.

"What is it?" madame demanded of Lanyard.

He threw her the word "Police!" as he turned and flung himself into the recess of the window.

But when he wrenched it open the voice of a picket on the lawn saluted him in sharp warning; and when, involuntarily, he stepped out upon the balcony, a flash of flame split the gloom below, a loud report rang in the quiet of the park, and a bullet slapped viciously the stone facing of the window.

XXIV

RENDEZVOUS

With as little ceremony as though the bullet had lodged in himself, Lanyard tumbled back into the room, tripped, and fell sprawling; while to a tune of clattering boots two sergents de ville lumbered valiantly into the library and pulled up to discover Madame Omber standing calmly, safe and sound, beside her desk, and Lanyard picking himself up from the floor by the open window.

Behind them Sidonie trotted, wringing her hands.

"Madame!" she bleated--"they wouldn't listen to me, madame--I couldn't stop them!"

"All right, Sidonie. Go back to the hall. I'll call you when needed....

Messieurs, good morning!"

One of the sergents advanced with an uncertain salute and a superfluous question: "Madame Omber----?" The other waited on the threshold, barring the way.