The study, like the rest of the house, was lighted by electricity--a discovery that Peter Barcroft had made with huge satisfaction. It was, indeed, a rare chance to hit upon an isolated dwelling, in a commanding, lofty situation, well-built and supplied with water, gas and electricity. The secret lay in the fact that at one time it had been the residence of the manager of the nearest bleaching works. Had it been daylight one would have noticed a line of hefty posts supporting a cable-system that ran up hill and down dale almost as far as the eye could reach. At certain intervals the supports bore a large board on which was painted in bold letters: "Dangerous--10,000 volts"--a warning to the youth of the district who might feel tempted to fly kites over the wires or even to climb the poles out of sheer exuberance of juvenile spirits. It was from this cable by means of a "transformer" that Ladybird Fold derived its supply of electric current, and, as it happened, the works had not received any warning that night of the raid--a circumstance that contributed greatly to the comfort of Peter Barcroft's den. From his chair Entwistle glanced at his host's desk and shuddered. The cover had been left rolled back, disclosing a veritable chaos of papers, reference books, writing materials, pipes and two large tobacco-jars. The pigeon-holes were crammed to bursting-point with a medley of papers, particularly the one labelled "Letters to be answered." From another gaped the crumpled ends of what were evidently a number of cheques that awaited a favourable opportunity on the part of the busy author (he put in an occasional two hours a day, be it remembered) to be paid into the Barborough Bank. A thick layer of dust covered the desk, although everything else in the room was fairly clear if the patches of tobacco ash on the carpet square were not taken into account. It was part of Peter's creed to knock out his pipes on the heel of his boot and deposit their remains on the floor, convenient ash-trays notwithstanding. For one thing it kept the moth away. The dust, too, upon the desk was the result of studied design. The "help" from the village--a temporary importation pending Mrs. Barcroft's return and provided she was successful in her distracting quest--had been strictly enjoined, browbeaten and threatened with divers pains and penalties, not to disturb Peter's papers. With luck he could find what he wanted in five minutes; without, in an hour. That is, if the desk had been left severely alone. Otherwise, should the timorous female dare to "side-up"--a Lancashire expression that puzzled Barcroft tremendously at first--the quest would be almost hopeless.