CHAPTER XIX. STOLEN!

Not till now did Gordon Bruce fully appreciate the blow that a cruel fate had dealt him. At first he had been confused and bewildered, and a little disposed to doubt the evidence of his senses. There was a vague hope that it was a trick, a mistake that a moment would rectify.

He had not been arrested yet; his own voluntary evidence, backed up so strangely by the evidence of Hetty and the reporter, had staved that off for the present. But really, things were almost as bad. He had his own friends, of course, who were prepared to back him up through thick and thin, but there were others who passed him with a cold bow, or cut him altogether. He had called at one or two houses professionally, where he had been informed that his services would no longer be required. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but Bruce met it bravely. Even Hetty did not quite guess what he was suffering.

He was only too glad of any excuse to meet her now. Anything to get away from himself and his own disturbed thoughts. And he had not so very much faith in Lawrence, despite the latter's pretty gift of prophecy. The artistic temperament is always a sanguine one.

Hetty was waiting for him now in Lawrence's study. She looked bright and cheerful so that Bruce kissed her passionately. It would be hard if he could not live up to her courage and devotion.

"My poor boy," she whispered. "My poor boy! But it is not going to last. The truth is bound to come out before long. And then it will be like one of those queer bank panics--only weather the storm, and you will be more sought after than ever."

Bruce forced a smile to his lips.

"If you can be brave so can I," he said. "And perhaps Lawrence will bring off one of his wonderful problems. But one thing I am pretty sure of--it has nothing to do with your employer, Countess Lalage."

Lawrence came in puffing one of his eternal cigarettes. His manner was full of confidence.

"I wanted to have a chat with you two people," he said. "In the first place I have made a startling discovery. Of course you know that the victim of the Corner House tragedy changed ￡400 for notes at the National Credit Bank. We know that somehow or other half those notes found their way into the possession of our friend Bruce here. Now, did it not strike you as strange that nobody should worry about the other half?"

"Perhaps already disposed of elsewhere?" Hetty suggested.

"Perhaps. Or the poor fellow might have had them in his pocket with the list. But the notes were there, and, as a matter of fact, I have quite recently had them all in my hands."

Bruce's listless manner departed. His respect for Lawrence began to revive again.

"When did you see them?" he asked. "Did Prout----"

"Prout! That estimable man is not likely to help much in a complicated case like this. As a matter of fact I saw those notes in Isaac Isidore's chambers this morning, they had been paid to him in a certain fashionable house where they were gambling heavily last night. Can you guess where the house is?"

Bruce shook his head. Hetty shook her finger at him disapprovingly.

"How slow you are," she said. "Where does anything happen that touches on this case? And I know where there was some heavy gambling going on last night. The incident took place in the drawing-room of No. 1, Lytton Avenue."

"Is that really a fact?" Bruce cried.

"Honestly," said Lawrence; "I was there and saw it. Isidore has a perfect figure memory, and spotted those numbers at once. But unfortunately it was impossible to identify the person who introduced the notes into the room, as there were so many of those bits of paper on the table. But I shall find out. I know what the enemy's next move will be."

"Do enlighten us a little," Hetty pleaded.

"Well, I will. From the very first the mystery has developed exactly on the lines laid down in that skeleton story I told you of. My locale was the corner house, and the plot started there. Did I not forecast all about the Spaniard and the lights going out and everything. It is easy when you know how it is done. Therefore I was quite prepared for the next move."

"But nobody has seen this plot," said Hetty.

"My dear girl, what I have just told you proves the contrary. Much as I owe to coincidence, I am not going to swallow that. Now I have not so much as taken the trouble to look at that synopsis which was pigeonholed in my desk a long time ago. It would be useless to look for it."

"And why?" asked Bruce.

"Because I feel quite sure it isn't there," said Lawrence. "Now take my keys, Hetty. I am pretty methodical, as you know; I always know exactly where to put my hand on everything. Unlock the panel on the left-hand side. Tell me what you can see in the pigeonhole to the right."

Hetty unlocked the desk and searched as desired.

"There is nothing whatever in that pigeonhole," she said.

"As I expected," cried Lawrence. "Stolen! There's a pretty piece of valuable information for you. The person who stole that is at the bottom of the crime. In other words, the key to the future movements of the criminal is in my hands!"