"Fanny's a clever little thing," said the detective admiringly; "I'd like a daughter with her wits. Now, Miss, keep in your mind what I am going to tell you--not that there's any need for me to say that. You are working for Mr. Frederick, as I am, and others with me. A watch is going to be set outside this house--and if it's done as well as the watch you've kept inside the house, we shan't have any reason to grumble. In what room does the old bedridden lady, Mrs. Bailey sleep?" "In the first floor back," replied Becky. "Is the first floor front open? Can you get into the room?" "Yes, I have the key." "That's the room, isn't it?" said the detective, stepping back and looking up. "There's a balcony before the window." "Yes." "Does the window open easily?" "I don't know; I have never tried." "Would you oblige me by stepping upstairs and trying now? And it will save trouble if you leave the window open. Be as quiet as you can, so as not to alarm Richard Manx. I'll keep outside the street door while you're gone." Becky went softly into the kitchen for the key of the first floor front, and then went upstairs and opened the door. She might have been a shadow, she glided about so noiselessly. The window was not easy to open, but she succeeded in raising the sash almost without a sound. "It is done," she said, as she stood before the detective once more. "I'd like to have another daughter," said he, in a tone of approval, "with wits as sharp as yours. I believe Mr. Frederick was right when he told me there was not your equal. Now, something's going to be done that will take about a quarter-of-an-hour to do, and we want to be sure during that quarter-of-an-hour that Richard Manx is not up to any of his little games. You understand me--we want to be sure that he is in his garret, smoking his pipe, or saying his prayers, or reading a good book. You and Fanny between you can do that part of the business for us--I leave you to manage how. I wouldn't presume to dictate to _you_. If ever you've a mind to give lessons in _my_ way of business, you may count on me as a pupil." "We can do what you ask," said Becky; "but how are we to let you know?" "There's the window of the first floor front open. If Richard Manx is safe in his room, let fly a bit of newspaper out of the window--I shall see it, and know what it means. If there's danger--if at any time within a quarter-of-an-hour of the newspaper flying out of the window, Richard Manx is up to any of his games, such as going out of his room through the ceiling instead of through the door, or prowling about the roof when he ought to be in bed--throw one of these little balls of red worsted out of the window. That will be a danger signal, and we shall know what to do." "May I ask you one question?" "A dozen if you like--but I won't promise to answer them." "I think you may answer this one. Is the gentleman who employs you taking an active part in what is going to be done?" "He is, Miss."