"On the look-out, Fanny!" I exclaimed. "Why you haven't been in bed! What is the meaning of it?" "I've been in bed," said Fanny, "but I didn't undress, and I didn't go to sleep. I've been listening. _He's_ in the next house." "Who?" I cried. "Richard Manx!" And I jumped up, and began to dress myself. Heaven only knows why, for I had no intention of going out of my bedroom. "Yes, Richard Manx," replied Fanny. "Have you heard anything?" "Yes, like some one taking up the floor." "A loud noise then, Fanny." "No--everything's being done soft--like a cat moving; but there's a crack sometimes, and a wrench, just the noise that would be made if boards were being taken up." These words set me all in a fever. Richard Manx was getting desperate, and did not mean to give up his search without examining everything in the room. What if he _should_ discover the document he is looking for? It would be he, then, who would hold the winning cards. The thought was torture. It seemed to me as if I were within reach of your happiness, your safety, of the vindication of your honour, and as if they were slipping from me. "Are you sure it is Richard Manx who is in the next house?" I asked. "As sure as guns," said Fanny. "How can you tell? You can't see through the walls." "No, I wish I could--then I should find out something more. When the noise first came I didn't move for a long while; I waited till Mr. Manx was deep in his little game; then I got up so quietly that Mrs. Bailey didn't stir, and I went out of the room, and upstairs to the garret. The door was shut, and I pushed it softly, and it gave way. I slid downstairs like lightning, for if Mr. Manx had been in the room he would have come to the door at once; then, if he didn't see anyone, he might think it was the wind that had blown the door open. But he didn't come because he wasn't in the room, and the door remained just as I left it. I crept up again, and peeped into the room; it was empty, and there _was_ a wind blowing--right over my head. I looked up, and saw a trap-door in the ceiling, open, and just under it two chairs, one on top of the other. That is how Mr. Manx reaches the roof; and he gets down into the next house through another trap-door." "How do you know that, Fanny?" I asked. "Why," said the courageous little creature, "You don't suppose I was going not to find that out, do you? I should be a nice one if I hadn't climbed up on the chairs, and lifted myself up on to the roof. I can do that a deal better than Mr. Manx, there's so little of me. I crept along on all-fours, and reached the other trap-door leading to the next house. It was open. I didn't go down because it was dark, and I was frightened of falling. It wasn't that I cared about hurting myself, but it would have brought Mr. Manx up to me, and then all the fat would have been in the fire. So I thought I would come back and tell you. Would you like to come up, and see for yourself?"