ON the day after Isabel's departure, diligent Mr. Troy set forthfor the Head Office in Whitehall to consult the police on thequestion of the missing money. He had previously sent informationof the robbery to the Bank of England, and had also advertisedthe loss in the daily newspapers.

The air was so pleasant, and the sun was so bright, that hedetermined on proceeding to his destination on foot. He washardly out of sight of his own offices when he was overtaken by afriend, who was also walking in the direction of Whitehall. Thisgentleman was a person of considerable worldly wisdom andexperience; he had been officially associated with cases ofstriking and notorious crime, in which Government had lent itsassistance to discover and punish the criminals. The opinion of aperson in this position might be of the greatest value to Mr.Troy, whose practice as a solicitor had thus far never broughthim into collision with thieves and mysteries. He accordinglydecided, in Isabel's interests, on confiding to his friend thenature of his errand to the police. Concealing the name, butconcealing nothing else, he described what had happened on theprevious day at Lady Lydiard's house, and then put the questionplainly to his companion.

"What would you do in my place?"

"In your place," his friend answered quietly, "I should not wastetime and money in consulting the police."

"Not consult the police!" exclaimed Mr. Troy in amazement."Surely, I have not made myself understood? I am going to theHead Office; and I have got a letter of introduction to the chiefinspector in the detective department. I am afraid I omitted tomention that?"

"It doesn't make any difference," proceeded the other, as coollyas ever. "You have asked for my advice, and I give you my advice.Tear up your letter of introduction, and don't stir a stepfurther in the direction of Whitehall."

Mr. Troy began to understand. "You don't believe in the detectivepolice?" he said.

"Who _can_ believe in them, who reads his newspaper and rememberswhat he reads?" his friend rejoined. "Fortunately for thedetective department, the public in general forgets what itreads. Go to your club, and look at the criminal history of ourown time, recorded in the newspapers. Every crime is more or lessa mystery. You will see that the mysteries which the policediscover are, almost without exception, mysteries made penetrableby the commonest capacity, through the extraordinary stupidityexhibited in the means taken to hide the crime. On the otherhand, let the guilty man or woman be a resolute and intelligentperson, capable of setting his (or her) wits fairly against thewits of the police--in other words, let the mystery really _be_ amystery--and cite me a case if you can (a really difficult andperplexing case) in which the criminal has not escaped. Mind! Idon't charge the police with neglecting their work. No doubt theydo their best, and take the greatest pains in following theroutine to which they have been trained. It is their misfortune,not their fault, that there is no man of superior intelligenceamong them--I mean no man who is capable, in great emergencies,of placing himself above conventional methods, and following anew way of his own. There have been such men in the police--mennaturally endowed with that faculty of mental analysis which candecompose a mystery, resolve it into its component parts, andfind the clue at the bottom, no matter how remote from ordinaryobservation it may be. But those men have died, or have retired.One of them would have been invaluable to you in the case youhave just mentioned to me. As things are, unless you are wrong inbelieving in the young lady's innocence, the person who hasstolen that bank-note will be no easy person to find. In myopinion, there is only one man now in London who is likely to beof the slightest assistance to you--and he is not in the police."

"Who is he?" asked Mr. Troy.

"An old rogue, who was once in your branch of the legalprofession," the friend answered. "You may, perhaps, remember thename: they call him 'Old Sharon.' "

"What! The scoundrel who was struck off the Roll of Attorneys,years since? Is he still alive?"

"Alive and prospering. He lives in a court or lane running out ofLong Acre, and he offers advice to persons interested inrecovering missing objects of any sort. Whether you have lostyour wife, or lost your cigar-case, Old Sharon is equally usefulto you. He has an inbred capacity for reading the riddle theright way in cases of mystery, great or small. In short, hepossesses exactly that analytical faculty to which I alluded justnow. I have his address at my office, if you think it worth whileto try him."

"Who can trust such a man?" Mr. Troy objected. "He would be sureto deceive me."

"You are entirely mistaken. Since he was struck off the Rolls OldSharon has discovered that the straight way is, on the whole, thebest way, even in a man's own interests. His consultation fee isa guinea; and he gives a signed estimate beforehand for anysupplementary expenses that may follow. I can tell you (this is,of course, strictly between ourselves) that the authorities at myoffice took his advice in a Government case that puzzled thepolice. We approached him, of course, through persons who were tobe trusted to represent us, without betraying the source fromwhich their instructions were derived; and we found the oldrascal's advice well worth paying for. It is quite likely that hemay not succeed so well in your case. Try the police, by allmeans; and, if they fail, why, there is Sharon as a last resort."

This arrangement commended itself to Mr. Troy's professionalcaution. He went on to Whitehall, and he tried the detectivepolice.

They at once adopted the obvious conclusion to persons ofordinary capacity--the conclusion that Isabel was the thief.

Acting on this conviction, the authorities sent an experiencedwoman from the office to Lady Lydiard's house, to examine thepoor girl's clothes and ornaments before they were packed up andsent after her to her aunt's. The search led to nothing. The onlyobjects of any value that were discovered had been presents fromLady Lydiard. No jewelers' or milliners' bills were among thepapers found in her desk. Not a sign of secret extravagance indress was to be seen anywhere. Defeated so far, the policeproposed next to have Isabel privately watched. There might be aprodigal lover somewhere in the background, with ruin staring himin the face unless he could raise five hundred pounds. LadyLydiard (who had only consented to the search under stress ofpersuasive argument from Mr. Troy) resented this ingenious ideaas an insult. She declared that if Isabel was watched the girlshould know of it instantly from her own lips. The policelistened with perfect resignation and decorum, and politelyshifted their ground. A certain suspicion (they remarked) alwaysrested in cases of this sort on the servants. Would her Ladyshipobje ct to private inquiries into the characters and proceedingsof the servants? Her Ladyship instantly objected, in the mostpositive terms. Thereupon the "Inspector" asked for a minute'sprivate conversation with Mr. Troy. "The thief is certainly amember of Lady Lydiard's household," this functionary remarked,in his politely-positive way. "If her Ladyship persists inrefusing to let us make the necessary inquiries, our hands aretied, and the case comes to an end through no fault of ours. Ifher Ladyship changes her mind, perhaps you will drop me a line,sir, to that effect. Good-morning."

So the experiment of consulting the police came to an untimelyend. The one result obtained was the expression of purblindopinion by the authorities of the detective department whichpointed to Isabel, or to one of the servants, as the undiscoveredthief. Thinking the matter over in the retirement of his ownoffice--and not forgetting his promise to Isabel to leave nomeans untried of establishing her innocence--Mr. Troy could seebut one alternative left to him. He took up his pen, and wrote tohis friend at the Government office. There was nothing for it nowbut to run the risk, and try Old Sharon.