In a minute the collector had ended his task. While sorting his bundles of pasteboards he said: "Nobody ever tell'd me that before. An' you ain't the only one on 'er track. Are you in the police?" "No." "I thought not. But some other chaps who kem 'ere was. None of 'em ever said the lydy was dead." "Why; what matter?" "Oh, nothin', but two 'eads is better'n one, if they're only sheep's 'eads." "Undoubtedly. The rule is all the more reliable when one of them belongs to a shrewd chap like you." The collector grinned. He understood that he was being flattered for a purpose, yet he liked it. "That's one w'y of lookin' at it," he said, "but if this affair's pertickler, why, all I can s'y is it's worth somethin' to somebody." "Certainly. Here's a sovereign for a start. If you can tell me anything really worth knowing I will add four more to it." "Now, that's talkin'. I'm off duty at eight o'clock, an' I can't 'ave a chat now because I expect the inspector any minute." "Suppose you call and see me in Victoria Street at nine?" "Right you are, sir." Bruce gave the man his address and recrossed the square. Few people were abroad, so he walked straight to the first door of Raleigh Mansions and made his way to the fourth floor. Had he been a moment later he must have seen Mrs. Hillmer, closely wrapped up, leave her residence unattended. Her carriage was not in waiting. She walked to the cabstand in the square and called a hansom, driving back up Sloane Street. Her actions indicated a desire to be unobserved even by her servants, as in the usual course of events the housemaid would have brought a cab to the door. But the barrister, steadily climbing up the stairs, could not guess what was happening in the street. He soon opened Mensmore's door, and noted, as an idle fact, that the expected gust of cold air was absent. There was no light on this landing, so he was in pitch darkness once he had passed the doorway. There was no need to strike a match, however, as he remembered the exact position of the electric switchboard--on the left beyond the dining-room door. He stepped cautiously forward, and stretched forth his hand to grope for the lever. With a quick rush, some two or three assailants flung themselves upon him, and after a fierce, gasping struggle--for Bruce was a strong man--he was borne to the floor face downwards, with one arm beneath him and the other pinioned behind his back. "Look sharp, Jim," shouted a breathless voice. "Turn on the light and close the door. We've got him safe enough." They had. Two large hands were clutched round his neck, a knee was firmly embedded in the small of his back, another hand gripped his left wrist like a vice, while some one sat on his legs. He could not have been collared more effectually by a Rugby International team. The third man found the electric light and turned it on. "Now, get up," said some one, "and don't give us any more trouble. It's no use."