“No. 9, on the next floor,” said the landlord, who had never been so puzzled and alarmed in his life. Peace rushed back into his bedroom, snatched up the chamber candlestick, and flew up the wide staircase, never pausing till he had reached the upper floor. The door of the No. 9 bedroom was wide open. Our hero entered the apartment, which was tenantless. He rushed into each of the other rooms on the same floor. One was occupied by the little maid who acted as supplementary waitress――another was tenanted by an old woman, and another was where the potman slept. All the occupants were scared at beholding our hero with his revolver in one hand, and his chamber candlestick in the other. In answer to his queries they one and all declared they had neither seen nor heard anybody about since they had retired to rest, with the exception of their interlocutor. At the further end of the passage was a double window, which opened sideways on hinges, as is often the case in old English houses and inns. One of the casements of this was partially open. Peace’s suspicions were aroused at once. He ran to the window, threw it back, and looked out. At the further extremity of the roof he beheld the figure of a man who flung himself off the roof on to one of the branches of a large chestnut tree, by means of which he reached the ground in safety. “He’s got clean off, and done it very cleverly, I am free to confess,” exclaimed Peace; “but we may yet hunt him down.” Mr. Wrench in a state of trepidation now made his appearance. “Have you discovered anything?” he ejaculated, in a tone of the deepest anxiety. “He’s off,” cried Peace. “Who?” “How should I know? The robber, whoever he may be. But not a moment is to be lost. Follow me.” Our hero descended the stairs with the speed of an antelope, and was followed by the detective. They both made for the front door, which unfortunately for them was locked and barred most securely. “How shall we get out of this cursed house?” cried Wrench. “Here, Brickett――Brickett!” shouted out Peace. “Bring the keys and open the front door.” The landlord hastened to the spot, and undid the fastenings. Then Peace, without another word, sallied forth. It is an old saying, “set a thief to catch a thief,” and it was never more exemplified than in this instance. No one, however, at the time suspected that our picture-frame maker was a notorious burglar, who, however, it must be admitted had been conducting himself in a very proper manner. He ran out into the high road, and saw at about a hundred and fifty yards the figure of the same man he had seen on the roof. “He’s got a good start, it’s true,” he observed to the detective, “but here goes,” and with these words Peace ran after the fugitive at the very top of his speed. He was followed by Mr. Wrench, who, as a matter of course, ran his hardest.