‘I see,’ thought Lucius; ‘the old scoundrel is telling me this story in advance of the time when his master will inevitably ask for the silver. This seeming candour is the depth of hypocrisy.’ Jacob Wincher stood staring at the empty chest in apathetic hopelessness, feebly rubbing his chin, whereon some grizzled tufts lingered. ‘Do you mean to tell me,’ said Lucius, ‘that this chest was locked, and that you had the key of it in your pocket, at the time of the robbery?’ ‘Yes, sir. The chest has never been left unlocked for five minutes since that silver has been in my care; and I have never slept without this key being under my pillow.’ ‘And you would have me believe that a stranger could hit upon the precise spot where the silver was kept, amidst this inextricable tangle of property, open the box without doing any damage to the lock, and walk off with his booty without your knowing anything of his entrance or exit?’ ‘It seems strange, doesn’t it, Mr. Davoren?’ ‘It seems more than strange, Mr. Wincher. It seems—and it is—incredible.’ ‘And yet, sir, the thing has been done. The question is, was it done by a stranger?’ ‘Yes, Mr. Wincher, that is the question; and it is a question which, to my mind, suggests only one answer.’ ‘You mean that I am telling you lies, sir? that it was my hand which stole those things?’ cried the old man. ‘To be plain with you, that is precisely my idea.’ ‘You are doing me a great wrong, sir. I have served my master faithfully for so many years that I ought to be above suspicion. I have not much longer to remain in this world, and I would rather die of want to-morrow than lengthen my days by a dishonest action. However, if you choose to suspect me, there is an end of the matter, and it is useless for me to say any more.’ There was a quiet dignity about the old man’s air as he said this that impressed Lucius. Was it not just possible that he had done wrong in jumping at conclusions about these Winchers? The police, who are apt to jump at conclusions, are just as apt to be wrong. But if these people were not guilty, who else could have opened the door to that midnight intruder? There was no one else. ‘Come, Mr. Wincher,’ he said, ‘I have good reason for my suspicion. I saw a man admitted into this house, by one of the back doors, between one and two o’clock this morning. You, or your wife, must have opened the door to that man.’ ‘As there is a heaven above us, sir, I never stirred from my bed after half-past eleven o’clock last night.’ ‘Your wife must have admitted him, then.’ ‘Impossible, sir!’ ‘I tell you I saw the man creep from the barges to the garden; I saw the door opened,’ said Lucius; and then went on to describe that midnight watch of his minutely. The old man stared at him in sheer bewilderment. ‘A stranger admitted!’ he repeated. ‘But by whom? by whom?’ ‘Had I not seen the light as the door opened, I might have thought that the man opened the door for himself,’ said Lucius.