Hugo nodded absently, and Simon collected the ruins of the vile repast which his master had consumed, and put them outside on a tray on the landing. 'There's a light now in the first story!' exclaimed Hugo. 'I hope that boy won't be long.' And then Albert arrived with the revolver and the handcuffs. He had been supernaturally quick. They descended and crossed the road. 'You understand,' Hugo instructed them. 'Let us have no mistake about getting in. Immediately the door is opened, in we all go. We can talk inside.' 'Supposing Albert and me went down to the area-door,' Simon ventured, 'instead of the front-door. We might get in easier that way. It's always easier to deal with servant-girls and persons of that sort in kitchens. Then we could come upstairs and let you in at the front-door. Three detectives seem rather a lot to be entering all at once. And, besides, you don't look like a detective, sir.' 'What do I look like?' Hugo asked coldly. 'You look too much like a gentleman, sir. It's the hat, sir,' he added. Simon had certainly surpassed himself that day. He had begun by surpassing himself at early morning, and he had kept it up. Probably never before in his life had he been so loquacious and so happy in his loquacity. 'That's not a bad scheme, Simon,' said Hugo. 'Try it.' The brothers went down the area-steps while Hugo remained at the gate. A light burned steadily in the first-floor window. And then another and a fainter light flickered in the hall, and after a few seconds the front-door opened. Hugo literally jumped into the house, and, safely within, he banged the door. 'Now,' he said. A middle-aged woman, holding a candle, stood by Simon and Albert in the hall. 'Are you the servant?' Hugo demanded. 'No, sir; I'm the landlady. And I'd like to know--' 'Your husband told me you were away and wouldn't return till to-morrow.' 'Seeing as how my husband's been dead these thirteen years--' 'We're in, sir. We'd better search the house to start with,' said Albert. 'There's three of us. The man that opened the door to you must have been a wrong un, one of _his_.' 'Never have I had the police in my house before,' wailed the landlady of No. 23, Horseferry Road, while the candle dropped tallow tears on the oilcloth. 'And all I can say is I thank the blessed Lord it's dark, and you aren't in uniform. Doctor Woolrich's rooms are on the first floor, and you can go up and see for yourself, if you like. And how should I know he wasn't a real doctor?' As the landlady spoke, sounds of footsteps made themselves heard overhead, and a door closed. 'Give me that candle, my good woman,' said Hugo, hastily snatching it from her. The three men ran upstairs, leaving the hall to darkness and the landlady.