They groped their way into the various cellars by the light of a candle, and examined their emptiness. Two out of the four had contained coals, but were now disused. The small quantities of coal which Mr. Sivewright afforded for his household were accommodated in a roomy closet in the kitchen. The remaining two had contained wine, and a regiment of empty bottles still remained, the fragile memorials of departed plenty. They found beetles and spiders in profusion, and crossed the pathway of a rat; but they discovered no trace of the thief. This exploration and the previous conversation with Jacob Wincher occupied nearly two hours. Lucius left the house without again seeing Lucille. He would have been unable to account for his occupation during those two hours without giving her fresh cause for alarm. But before going he contrived to see Mrs. Wincher, and from that matron, now perfectly placable, he received the pleasing intelligence that Lucille was fast asleep on a sofa in the parlour. ‘I brought her in a ramshackle old sofy belonging to the bricklebrack,’ said Mrs. Wincher; ‘Lewis Katorse, my good gentleman calls it. And she laid down when I persuaded her, and went off just like a child that’s worn out with being on the trot all day. But she does look so sad and worried-like in her sleep, poor dear, it goes to my heart to see her.’ ‘Sad and worried,’ thought Lucius; and he had added to her anxieties by arousing her childish fears of an unknown danger. And then at the very time when she was broken down altogether by trouble and grief, had taken it into his head to suspect her. He hated himself for those shameful doubts which had tortured him a little while before. ‘Come what may,’ he said to himself, ‘let events take what shape they will, I will never again suspect her. Though I had forged the chain of evidence link by link, and it led straight to her, I would believe that facts were lies rather than think her guilty.’ CHAPTER VIII. MR. OTRANTO PRONOUNCES AN OPINION. From Cedar House Lucius went straight to Mr. Otranto’s office. It was still early, not yet noon, and he would have time for his daily round after he had settled this business, which was uppermost in his mind. ‘Well,’ he said, after a brief good-morning to the detective, ‘any news from Rio?’