I drove straight to the flat. The porter flew to help me out of my
hansom. His face alarmed me more than any I had left in Half-moon
Street. It alone might have spelled my ruin.
"Your flat's been entered in the night, sir," he cried. "The
thieves have taken everything they could lay hands on."
"Thieves in my flat!" I ejaculated aghast. There were one or two
incriminating possessions up there, as well as at the Albany.
"The door's been forced with a jimmy," said the porter. "It was
the milkman who found it out. There's a constable up there now."
A constable poking about in my flat of all. others! I rushed
upstairs without waiting for the lift. The invader was moistening
his pencil between laborious notes in a fat pocketbook; he had
penetrated no further than the forced door. I dashed past him in
a fever. I kept my trophies in a wardrobe drawer specially fitted
with a Bramah lock. The lock was broken - the drawer void.
"Something valuable, sir?" inquired the intrusive constable at my
heels.
"Yes, indeed - some old family silver," I answered.
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