"I dont see that" said Cyril cooly, "you dont even know where the safe is." Mr. Palsey bit his lips in suppressed anger. Cyril's words were stiningly true and made him boil with passion. "Here we are" said Cyril, as the cab stopped at a dimly lighted street corner. "Hi cabman, get down and open the door" screamed Mr. Palsey. The man shuffled down from the box and opened the door. "Any luggage" he asked roughly. "No" replied Mr. Palsey "there is a young lady fainted and we are going to carry her in to this house." "Right" responded the man and he stood aside while Cyril and Mr. Palsey came gingerly out carrying Helen between them. As they were ascending the steps a rough looking man in a torn red shirt and battered hat came up and addressed himself to Cyril. "Hi sir" he cried out "what about that L10 you promised; I'm a poor starving man and I cant wait much longer. "Bother" muttered Cyril "here man will a shilling suffice for this evening, I'll pay the rest tomorrow." "All right" grumbled the man, "unless you pay up tomorrow it'll be the last job I do for you," and with an oath the man departed. Cyril lead the way into a dimly lighted parlour and with Mr. Palseys help Helen was soon arranged on the sofa. Some supper consisting of cold mutton, vegitables and a jug of ale was laid out on a round table in the centre of the room, and small parrifin lamp burnt on the mantleshelf. Going over to this last object Cyril screwed it up, so that its glare fell, full on Helen's face. "Why she's hurt herself terribly" cried Cyril in alarm, pointing to a wound in her forehead from which blood had been streaming down her face. "Is your landlady up?" enquired Mr. Palsey seriously. "I should rather doubt it, why?" asked Cyril. "Because Miss Winston should be taken to her bedroom at once, I'm afraid it is a bad cut" replied Mr. Palsey. "I'll ring" responded Cyril and he acted accordingly. In ten minutes or so an oldish woman entered holding a candle and her garments had evidently been flung on in a hurry. "What now sir?" she asked. "Sorry for disturbing you Mrs. Pollard but this young lady of mine has had a terrible fall and must be taken to her bedroom at once, we thought it was only a faint said Cyril. "Lardy dardy" exclaimed Mrs. Pollard "poor young lady, I'll see to her at once sir." She left the room and soon returned with an other servant and the two carried Helen to her bedroom where they bathed her face with cold water and put her to bed as carefully as possible. "You'd best go for the doctor Mary" said Mrs. Pollard "say nothing to the young gentleman and be as quick as you can. Meanwhile Cyril and Mr. Palsey sat down to their supper. "Poor Helen" cried Cyril at last. "Oh stop that tune do" cried Mr. Palsey "tell us what happened." "It was all done as pre-arranged. I waited till the man was hanged and the yard emptied of people and while Mr. Winston was putting away the scaffold the blow was struck" said Cyril. "By you?" "No"