"You see how I have placed them, Wigan, which way up the newspapers are, and the scraps of writing on this piece of paper? We'll set a trap," and he closed the chest and locked it. "This is an old house, and there may be a way into this room which we know nothing about. We shall see." We left the room, but Quarles told me not to lock the door. He beckoned me to follow him to the kitchen. "Mrs. Eccles, how long has your master had that oaken chest in his room?" he asked the housekeeper. "It's been there all my time, sir." "Well, I shouldn't be surprised if it is connected with your master's disappearance." Mrs. Eccles's mouth slowly opened in astonishment. "We shall be back in two hours, and then--then we shall know." We left her and went to the office. The youth was cutting an initial on the corner of the table. "Busy, I see," said Quarles. "I fancy Mr. Portman's disappearance has something to do with that old chest in his room." "How can that be?" "I don't know yet. We are going to make an important inquiry and shall be back in a couple of hours. We'll be careful to ring the office bell, not the house one." As we turned to the front door Quarles caught my arm. He opened the door, letting it go so that it would close itself. For a few moments we remained motionless, then, creeping toward the office door, watched until the clerk's back was turned, and went quickly to Portman's room. "It is very easy, Wigan," whispered the professor; "if for us, then also for others. You see why I did not want you to lock the door of this room? Now we are in, we will lock it on the inside, and that screen will hide us." "There is no question that Mr. Portman left the house," I said. "Oh, no. Isaacson was quite definite, but I am trying to fit facts to my theory. I said we should be back in two hours, so we have about two hours to wait." There was plenty of room behind the screen, but those two hours went slowly. I could not decide what theory the professor had got in his mind, but concluded that he was not so satisfied with the honesty of Mrs. Eccles and the cadaverous youth as I was. He had looked at his watch when we went behind the screen, and he allowed a full two hours to elapse before he would leave our hiding-place. He walked straight to the chest and opened it. It was empty. All the papers had gone. "Well, Wigan?" I stared into the chest and did not answer. "It looks like another way into this room, doesn't it"--and then he started--"or out of it. I hadn't thought of that. Wait." He took an old envelope from his pocket, dropped it into the chest, and locked it. He waited a moment, then opened the chest again. The envelope had gone.