But immediately after dinner, when the posters of the early edition of the _Signal_ waved in the streets, he had material for other thought. He saw a poster as he was walking across to his office. The awful legend ran: "Astounding attempted burglary at Sneyd Hall." In buying the paper he was afflicted with a kind of ague. And the description of events at Sneyd Hall was enough to give ague to a negro. The account had been taken from the lips of Mrs. Gater, housekeeper at Sneyd Hall. She had related to a reporter how, upon going into the state suite before retiring for the night, she had surprised a burglar of Herculean physique and Titanic proportions. Fortunately she knew her duty and did not blench. The burglar had threatened her with a revolver and then, finding such bluff futile, had deliberately jumped through a large plate-glass window and vanished. Mrs. Gater could not conceive how the fellow had "effected an entrance." (According to the reporter, Mrs. Gater said "effected an entrance," not "got in." And here it may be mentioned that in the columns of the _Signal_ burglars never get into a residence; without exception they invariably effect an entrance.) Mrs. Gater explained further how the plans of the burglar must have been laid with the most diabolic skill; how he must have studied the daily life of the Hall patiently for weeks, if not months; how he must have known the habits and plans of every soul in the place, and the exact instant at which the Countess had arranged to drive to Stafford to catch the London express. It appeared that save for four maidservants, a page, two dogs, three gardeners, and the kitchen-clerk, Mrs. Gater was alone in the Hall. During the late afternoon and early evening they had all been to assist at a rat-catching in the stables, and the burglar must have been aware of this. It passed Mrs. Gater’s comprehension how the criminal had got clear away out of the gardens and park, for to set up a hue and cry had been with her the work of a moment. She could not be sure whether he had taken any valuable property, but the inventory was being checked. Though surely for her an inventory was scarcely necessary, as she had been housekeeper at Sneyd Hall for six-and-twenty years, and might be said to know the entire contents of the mansion by heart. The police were at work. They had studied footprints and _débris_. There was talk of obtaining detectives from London. Up to the time of going to press no clue had been discovered, but Mrs. Gater was confident that a clue would be discovered, and of her ability to recognise the burglar when he should be caught. His features, as seen in the moonlight, were imprinted on her mind for ever. He was a young man, well dressed. The Earl had telegraphed offering a reward of £20 for the fellow’s capture. A warrant was out. So it ran on.