morning to Mr. Campbell's rooms and give it into his own hands. If he is still asleep, wake him up. Do you understand?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Very well. You can go to bed now----"
It was lucky, thought Cyril, that he had taken Guy into his confidence. He was a good chap, Guy was! How he must hate the whole business! For, notwithstanding his careless manner, he was au fond a conventional soul. It was really comical to think of that impeccable person as a receiver of stolen property. What would he do with the jewels, Cyril wondered. Ah, that reminded him of the bag. He must get rid of it at once. Poking the fire into a blaze, he cautiously locked the two doors which connected his rooms with the rest of the house. Then, having assured himself that the blinds were carefully drawn and that no one was secreted about the premises, he knelt down before the empty fireplace in his bedroom and felt up the chimney.
The bag was no longer there! CHAPTER XII A PERILOUS VENTURE In the grey dawn of the following morning Cyril was already up and dressed. The first thing he did was to detach two of the labels affixed to his box and place them carefully in his pocketbook. That accomplished, he had to wait with what patience he could muster until Peter returned with Campbell's reply. Cyril perused it eagerly. It was evidently satisfactory, for he heaved a sigh of relief as he sat down to breakfast. His eyes, however, never left the clock and it had hardly finished striking nine before our hero was out of the house. No suspicious person was in sight, but Cyril, was determined to take no chances. He therefore walked quickly ahead, then turned so abruptly that he would necessarily have surprised anyone who was following him. This he did many times till he reached Piccadilly Circus, where, with a last look behind him, he bolted into a shop. There he asked for a small traveling box suitable for a lady. Having chosen one, he took his labels out of his pocket. "Have these pasted on the box," he ordered. The man's face expressed such amazement that Cyril hastened to remark that the box was intended for a bride who did not wish to be identified as such by the newness of her baggage. A comprehending and sympathetic smile proved that the explanation was satisfactory. A few minutes later Cyril drove off with his new acquisition. The next purchase was a handsomely-fitted lady's dressing-bag, which he took to Trufitt's and filled with such toilet accessories as a much-befrizzled young person designated as indispensable to a lady's comfort. On leaving there he stopped for a moment at his bank.Cyril now metaphorically girded his loins and summoning up all his courage, plunged into a shop in Bond Street, where he remembered his mother used to get what she vaguely termed "her things." 

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