"Everything is quiet here," said the detective, in a hoarse whisper. "Is our friend at work?" meaning by "our friend," Richard Manx. "No," replied Frederick. "Ah, he will be presently," said the detective; "he doesn't commence till he thinks everybody's asleep, and Mrs. Preedy has only been home for about ten minutes. She's as fond of a gossip as a cat is of mice. She's had an extra glass, I think. Are you quite comfortable, sir?" "Quite," said Frederick, and put an end to the conversation by wishing the detective good night. "He's a plucky one," mused the detective, as he resumed his watch; "but he's working for a prize worth winning." The food in the basket was sufficient for one man's wants for nearly a week, and Frederick, partaking of a little, went softly upstairs to the drawing room. He took the precaution of locking the door, and, mounting the table, waited for events. He had not long to wait. At half-past one Richard Manx entered the room in which Mr. Holdfast had been murdered. Frederick did not instantly recognise him, his disguise was so perfect, but when he removed his wig, the watcher saw his enemy, Pelham, before him. The wronged and persecuted man had schooled himself well. Though his heart beat furiously and his blood grew hot, he suffered no sound to escape him. He had fully made up his mind, in the event of Richard Manx discovering a document, to steal upon him unaware, and wrest it from him. He did not doubt his power to do as much; in physical strength he was the match of three such men as Pelham. His chief anxiety, in the event of anything being discovered, was that it should not be destroyed. Richard Manx used no precaution in the method of entering the room, except that he placed his candle upon the floor in such a way that its reflection could not reach the window, which opened at the back of the house. This lack of precaution was in itself a sufficient proof that his search had been long continued, and was a proof also that he considered himself safe in the deserted house.