"Thank you; they are all quite well. I want my mother's will--and father's jewels--and the securities which were in the brown despatch-box." "You do, do you? Are they missing?" "You know very well that they are missing--since you took them." "Took them, did I? Odd what things one sometimes does by accident." "It was no accident, as you are perfectly aware. Will you give them to me, please, as I am in a hurry?" "Give them to you? Do you expect me to hand them over now--at once?" "Most certainly. I don't intend to leave until I have them." "Suppose I leave?" "Then I shall follow you until we come to a policeman, to whom I shall give you in charge." He laughed; though what there was to laugh at in the notion of being locked up was beyond my comprehension. "So that's the idea. Well, I shouldn't like being sent to prison--it's not to be expected--" "You will have brought it upon yourself." "So I'll tell you what I'll do; you give me a kiss and I'll hand over." I flamed up. "How dare you say such a thing!" "All right! all right!--you look spiteful; and it seems you are. Sorry I asked for what isn't to be had. I keep what you want outside; if you wait here I'll go and fetch it." His insolent suggestion had made me so furious that, without stopping to think, supposing he meant what he said, I let him go. The door closed behind him as he went; but as there was a spring which made it close, I saw nothing strange in that. And I waited. His horrible proposal--and something, too, about his words, looks and manner made me conscious of a distinct sense of discomfort. I half wished that I had allowed him to escape, and made no attempt to follow. I glanced at my watch. It was past half-past two! What would the cabman think of me outside--and I had left three parcels in his cab!--and Hetty and her mother waiting for me at St James' Hall. I went to the door and turned the handle. It declined to yield. Imagining that there might be some trick in opening it, perhaps connected with the spring--because I knew that they had all sorts of queer inventions in the city--I rapped at the panel. "Mr Miller!" I cried. "Mr Miller! Will you open this door, please, and be quick, because I'm late already!" No answer. I rapped again--and called again. Then--at last!--I suspected. I stooped down and saw that the door was locked. I banged at it with both my fists. "Mr Miller! How dare you lock the door. Open it at once and let me out!" But not a bit of it. That was not his intention at all. Whether he was or was not on the other side I could not tell. It was a great, strong, heavy door, and so long as he chose to keep it locked, it was impossible for me to find out.