“And what do you think they will do?”

“Oh, they will, most probably, let him go on for the present; but, of course, if he is made accountable for the diamonds there will be nothing for it but to ‘go through the hoop,’ as the sporting financier expresses it.”

“The diamonds were of considerable value, then?”

“From twenty-five to thirty thousand pounds’ worth vanished with that parcel.”

I whistled.  This was a much bigger affair than I had imagined, and I was wondering if Thorndyke had realised the magnitude of the robbery, when we arrived at the police court.

“I suppose our friends have gone inside,” said Walter.  “They must have got here before us.”

This supposition was confirmed by a constable of whom we made inquiry, and who directed us to the entrance to the court.  Passing down a passage and elbowing our way through the throng of idlers, we made for the solicitor’s box, where we had barely taken our seats when the case was called.

Unspeakably dreary and depressing were the brief proceedings that followed, and dreadfully suggestive of the helplessness of even an innocent man on whom the law has laid its hand and in whose behalf its inexorable machinery has been set in motion.

The presiding magistrate, emotionless and dry, dipped his pen while Reuben, who had surrendered to his bail, was placed in the dock and the charge read over to him.  The counsel representing the police gave an abstract of the case with the matter-of-fact air of a house-agent describing an eligible property.  Then, when the plea of “not guilty” had been entered, the witnesses were called.  There were only two, and when the name of the first, John Hornby, was called, I glanced towards the witness-box with no little curiosity.

I had not hitherto met Mr. Hornby, and as he now entered the box, I saw an elderly man, tall, florid, and well-preserved, but strained and wild in expression and displaying his uncontrollable agitation by continual nervous movements which contrasted curiously with the composed demeanour of the accused man.  Nevertheless, he gave his evidence in a perfectly connected manner, recounting the events connected with the discovery of the crime in much the same words as I had heard Mr. Lawley use, though, indeed, he was a good deal more emphatic than that gentleman had been in regard to the excellent character borne by the prisoner.

After him came Mr. Singleton, of the finger-print department at Scotland Yard, to whose evidence I listened with close attention.  He produced the paper which bore the thumb-print in blood (which had previously been identified by Mr. Hornby) and a paper bearing the print, taken by himself, of the prisoner’s left thumb.  These two thumb-prints, he stated, were identical in every respect.

“And you are of opinion that the mark on the paper that was found in Mr. Hornby’s safe, was made by the prisoner’s left thumb?” the magistrate asked in dry and business-like tones.