"You are mysterious!" she said; "but I shall expect you at eleven o'clock!"
With that he turned and passed quickly through the door behind Bernard Megger. Up the stairs he ran and reached the first floor in time to see the other entering his chambers.
"He must have gone at once to Scotland Yard," said Pepys. "Where is the safe?"
Megger switched on the light and unlocked a door on his immediate left. It gave access to a study. In the dim glow of the green shaded lamps the place looked quiet and reposeful. Everything was neatly arranged, as befits the sanctum of a business man. Nothing seemed out of place.
"There are no signs of burglars here!" said Pepys, in a surprised manner.
"Simons may have reclosed the safe door," replied Megger.
Wheeling a chair across the thick carpet, he placed it by a tall, unglazed bookcase and mounted upon the seat.
"The safe is not open," he muttered excitedly.
And the man watching him saw that his puffy hand shook like a leaf in the breeze.
Removing a small oil-painting from the wall adjoining, he tore at his collar and produced a key attached to a thin chain about his neck. This he inserted in the cunning lock which the picture served to conceal. The next moment a hoarse cry escaped him.
"It hasn't been opened at all!" he shouted.
Snatching at the cord of a hanging lamp, he wildly hurled books about the floor and directed the light into a cavity that now had revealed itself. The other observed him keenly.
"Are you certain _nothing_ is gone?" he asked.
Megger plunged his hand inside and threw out several boxes and some bundles of legal-looking documents. Leaning yet farther forward, he touched a hidden spring that operated with a sharp _click_.
"_That_ hasn't gone, Inspector!" he cried triumphantly, and held out a large envelope, sealed in several places.
His eyes were feverish. His features worked.
"You are wrong, Isaac Jacobsen!" rapped Pepys, and snatched the packet in a flash. "It has!"
The man on the chair lurched. Every speck of colour fled from his naturally florid face, leaving it a dull, neutral grey. He threw out one hand to steady himself, and with the other plunged to his hip.
And Mr. Bernard Megger found himself looking down a revolver barrel that pointed accurately between his twitching eyebrows, nor wavered one hair's breadth!