‘This,
Elise, shall be the first-fruits of your redeeming influence over me. You are right, sir, in thinking that I had designs upon the jewels in
your possession. Such ventures have had a charm for me, which depended
as much upon the risk run as upon the value of the prize. Those famous
and antique stones of the Jewish priest were a challenge to my daring
and my ingenuity. I determined to get them.’

“‘I guessed as much.’

“‘There was only one thing that you did not guess.’

“‘And what is that?’

“‘That I got them. They are in this box.’

“He opened the box, and tilted out the contents upon the corner of my
desk. My hair rose and my flesh grew cold as I looked. There were twelve
magnificent square stones engraved with mystical characters. There could
be no doubt that they were the jewels of the urim and thummim. “‘Good God!’ I cried. ‘How have you escaped discovery?’

“‘By the substitution of twelve others, made especially to my order, in
which the originals are so carefully imitated that I defy the eye to
detect the difference.’

“‘Then the present stones are false?’ I cried. “‘They have been for some weeks.’

“We all stood in silence, my daughter white with emotion, but still
holding this man by the hand. “‘You see what I am capable of, Elise,’ said he. “‘I see that you are capable of repentance and restitution,’ she
answered. “‘Yes, thanks to your influence! I leave the stones in your hands, sir. Do what you like about it. But remember that whatever you do against me,
is done against the future husband of your only daughter. You will hear
from me soon again, Elise. It is the last time that I will ever cause
pain to your tender heart,’ and with these words he left both the room
and the house. “My position was a dreadful one. Here I was with these precious relics
in my possession, and how could I return them without a scandal and an
exposure? I knew the depth of my daughter’s nature too well to suppose
that I would ever be able to detach her from this man now that she had
entirely given him her heart. I was not even sure how far it was right
to detach her if she had such an ameliorating influence over him. How
could I expose him without injuring her—and how far was I justified in
exposing him when he had voluntarily put himself into my power? I
thought and thought, until at last I formed a resolution which may seem
to you to be a foolish one, and yet, if I had to do it again, I believe
it would be the best course open to me. “My idea was to return the stones without any one being the wiser. With
my keys I could get into the museum at any time, and I was confident
that I could avoid Simpson, whose hours and methods were familiar to me. I determined to take no one into my confidence—not even my daughter—whom
I told that I was about to visit my brother in Scotland. I wanted a free
hand for a few nights, without inquiry as to my comings and goings. To
this end I took a room in Harding Street that very night, with an
intimation that I was a Pressman, and that I should keep very late
hours. “That night I made my way into the museum, and I replaced four of the
stones. It was hard work, and took me all night When Simpson came round
I always heard his footsteps, and concealed myself in the mummy-case. I
had some knowledge of gold-work, but was far less skilful than the thief
had been. He had replaced the setting so exactly that I defy any one to
see the difference. My work was rude and clumsy. However, I hoped that
the plate might not be carefully examined, or the roughness of the
setting observed, until my task was done. Next night I replaced four
more stones. And to-night I should have finished my task had it not been
for the unfortunate circumstance which has caused me to reveal so much
which I should have wished to keep concealed. I appeal to you,
gentlemen, to your sense of honour and of compassion, whether what I
have told you should go any farther or not. My own happiness, my
daughter’s future, the hopes of this man’s regeneration, all depend upon
your decision.”

“Which is,” said my friend, “that all is well that ends well, and that
the whole matter ends here and at once. To-morrow the loose settings
shall be tightened by an expert goldsmith, and so passes the greatest
danger to which, since the destruction of the Temple, the urim and
thummim have been exposed. Here is my hand, Professor Andreas, and I can
only hope that under such difficult circumstances I should have carried
myself as unselfishly and as well.”

Just one footnote to this narrative. Within a month Elise Andreas was
married to a man whose name, had I the indiscretion to mention it, would
appeal to my readers as one who is now widely and deservedly honoured. But if the truth were known, that honour is due not to him but to the
gentle girl who plucked him back when he had gone so far down that dark
road along which few return. THE LOST SPECIAL


The confession of Herbert de Lernac, now lying under sentence of death
at Marseilles, has thrown a light upon one of the most inexplicable
crimes of the century—an incident which is, I believe, absolutely
unprecedented in the criminal annals of any country. Although there is a
reluctance to discuss the matter in official circles, and little
information has been given to the Press, there are still indications
that the statement of this arch-criminal is corroborated by the facts,
and that we have at last found a solution for a most astounding
business. As the matter is eight years old, and as its importance was
somewhat obscured by a political crisis which was engaging the public
attention at the time, it may be as well to state the facts as far as we
have been able to ascertain them. They are collated from the Liverpool
papers of that date, from the proceedings at the inquest upon John
Slater, the engine-driver, and from the records of the London and West
Coast Railway Company, which have been courteously put at my disposal. Briefly, they are as follows. On the 3rd of June, 1890, a gentleman, who gave his name as Monsieur
Louis Caratal, desired an interview with Mr. James Bland, the
superintendent of the London and West Coast Central Station in
Liverpool. He was a small man, middle-aged and dark, with a stoop which
was so marked that it suggested some deformity of the spine. He was
accompanied by a friend, a man of imposing physique, whose deferential
manner and constant attention showed that his position was one of
dependence. This friend or companion, whose name did not transpire, was
certainly a foreigner, and probably, from his swarthy complexion, either
a Spaniard or a South American. One peculiarity was observed in him. He
carried in his left hand a small black leather dispatch-box, and it was
noticed by a sharp-eyed clerk in the Central office that this box was
fastened to his wrist by a strap. No importance was attached to the fact
at the time, but subsequent events endowed it with some significance.