“What’s the meaning of this?” exclaimed our hero, peering curiously out of the window. No one was to be seen. He sat down again and unfolded the paper, spread it out on his knee, and saw written thereon these words:―― “Be cautious. Keep watch and ward. Somebody’s in the house, a stranger, who is of no good. Take warning!――A FRIEND.” “I can’t make this out. ‘Somebody’s in the house who is no good.’ Curse it, I wish the writer had been a little more explicit; this is most incomprehensible.” Again he looked out of his window in every direction, but could not see a living creature. The handwriting on the paper he failed to recognise. “This is most remarkable,” he ejaculated. “Who is in the house, I wonder, that means no good? Some robber, I suppose――some suspected person. Well, I’ll have my revolver handy in case of any attack; but after all it may only be a grim joke of one of my parlour acquaintances?” He tried to persuade himself that this last hypothesis was the correct one, but signally failed in doing so. Not a sound disturbed the unbroken stillness of the night. Peace was not a man to give way to idle or groundless fears. Nevertheless he could not but acknowledge that the circumstance was singular, and, taken altogether, was of an exceptional character. “Who could have thrown the stone and paper into the room?” murmured he. “If it came from a friend why did he not show himself?” During his sojourn at the “Carved Lion” he had made it a practice to have his dog Gip sleep in the same room as himself, and he had not departed from that rule on the present occasion. He had with him also a six-chambered revolver, which he had not come too honestly by. He had, in fact, stolen it when in Sheffield. He had always a passion for fire-arms, as also for musical instruments, and had never been very particular how he obtained either. He glanced at “Gip,” who was lying on a rug placed for his accommodation near the door of his room. The animal looked wistfully at his master. “Well,” murmured our hero; “no one will be able to enter the apartment without my hearing it, for Gip will be sure to give an alarm. At the same time it would be as well perhaps to take this precaution.” He walked towards the door and slid the bolt into its socket. Then he sat once more on the side of his bed. “It may be after all but a hoax of some mischievously-disposed fool!” he exclaimed. “In all probability such is the case. Any way, I shall not put myself about, or take further trouble in the matter.” He remained for an hour or so after this, watching and waiting, but could not detect the faintest sound. All was silent within the house, and all was silent without. He got fairly worn out, and threw himself on his couch without undressing, drew the rug over him, and sank to sleep.