Footsteps were now heard ascending the stairs, and in another moment the servant girl entered the room. She was accompanied by an inspector of the police and a constable. “Where is the prisoner?” said the inspector. “He has escaped,” answered Gatliffe. “Escaped!” iterated the inspector. “Surely you have not been foolish enough to let him get away. How did it happen?” “You shall hear. I had him in this room and kept guard over the entrance. He pleaded for mercy, but I told him I had a duty to perform. All at once, after remaining quiet and submissive for some time, he sprang towards the door. I caught hold of him to arrest his passage; in doing so my foot slipped, and he lost no time in taking advantage of this accident, and succeeded in releasing himself from my grasp. It was all done in less time than it takes me to tell it. He flew downstairs.” “Well, you followed, of course?” “Yes.” “And could not overtake him?” “I had very nearly done so, when he rushed into the back parlour, closed the door, and locked it. I ran round the conservatory, searched everywhere I could think of, but was unable to find him. Oh! he has escaped, but it is no fault of mine.” This, as the reader may guess, was not a truthful statement, but it was the only course Gatliffe had left to get himself out of the difficulty. The inspector looked at the constable――then they both gave a glance at Gatliffe, who, as a natural consequence, felt greatly disconcerted. [Sidenote: No. 7.] [Illustration: BESSIE DREW FORTH FROM THE PAPER A HUNDRED POUND NOTE.] “Well, it is very unfortunate――exceedingly so,” observed the inspector. “Should you know the man again?” “Oh, dear, yes; I’ve no doubt I should.” “So should I,” exclaimed the girl. “I should know him out of a thousand. He had a dark skin, and appears to be a mulatto.” “Is that so?” This last query was addressed to Gatliffe. “Yes, she’s quite right――that was what he appeared to be――a half caste, a creole, or mulatto.” “Ah! several burglaries have been committed by a man of that description. I am much mortified at his having made his escape.” “It is indeed very much to be regretted, but it is no fault of mine. I hope you don’t think it is,” said Gatliffe. “I don’t say it is any _fault_ of yours,” returned the inspector, testily. “I only say it’s unfortunate, that’s all――confoundedly unfortunate, when you’ve bagged your bird, to let him fly away. I say again, it’s unfortunate; but talking wont mend the matter. Let’s search the house, Jawkins.” This was addressed to the constable. “You see this?” remarked Gatliffe, pointing significantly to the bag. The constable opened it, and drew forth one article after the other in the usual systematic and professional manner invariably adopted by gentlemen of his profession. “He meant walking away with a tolerably rich booty,” observed the inspector. “Ah! he knew his business――not the least doubt of that.”