Mrs. Julius Rohscheimer.[1]
Baron Hague.[1]
Miss Zoe Oppner.[1]
Sir Richard Haredale.
Mrs. Maurice Hohsmann.[1]
Mr. J. J. Oppner.[1]
Mrs. Wellington Lacey.
Mr. Sheard (Press).
Miss Salome Hohsmann.[1]
Sir Leopold Jesson.[1]
Lady Vignoles.[1]
Mr. Julius Rohscheimer.[1]
Lady Mary Evershed.
Lord Vignoles.
Miss Charlotte Hohsmann.[1]
Mr. Antony Elschild.[1]
[1] Representatives of capital.
"I understand that the man holds private keys to the British Museum!" cried Mrs. Hohsmann.
"Nobody would be surprised to hear," came the thick voice of Julius Rohscheimer, "that he'd got a private subway between his bedroom and the Bank of England!"
Extravagant though this may appear, it would not indeed, at this time, have surprised the world at large to learn anything—however amazing in an ordinary man—respecting Séverac Bablon. The real facts of his most recent exploit were known only to a select few; but it was universal property how, at about half-past eleven one morning shortly after the theft from the British Museum, and whilst all London, together with a great part of the Empire, was discussing the incredibly mysterious robbery, a cab drove up to the main entrance of that institution, containing a District Messenger and a large box.
The box was consigned to the trustees of the Museum, and the boy, being questioned, described the consigner as "a very old gentleman, with long, white hair."
It contained, carefully and scientifically packed, the Hamilton Vase and the Head of Cæsar!
Furthermore, it contained the following note:
"Gentlemen,—
"I beg to return, per messenger, the Head of Cæsar and the Hamilton Vase. My reason for taking the liberty of borrowing them was that I desired to convince a wealthy friend that a rare curio is a powerful instrument for good, and that to allow of great wealth lying idle when thousands sicken and die in poverty is a misuse of a power conferred by Heaven.