‘Some, but not much,’ answered Mr. Otranto, looking up from the desk, at which he had been copying some document into a note-book. ‘The mail’s just in. I was going to write you a letter in the course of to-day or to-morrow. This Mr. Ferdinand Sivewright seems to have been altogether a bad lot—card-sharper, swindler, anything you like. He soon made Rio too hot to hold him, and after managing to rub on there about six months, went on to Mexico. My agent hunted up any information about him that was to be got in Mexico; but it’s a long time ago, you see, since he was there. He seems to have behaved pretty much the same in Mexico as he did in Rio, and that’s about all my agent could hear. The impression was that he had left Mexico on the quiet—taken French leave, as you may say—and come back to England; but he couldn’t find out the name of the vessel he sailed in.’ ‘You needn’t take any farther trouble about the matter, Mr. Otranto,’ said Lucius. ‘I believe I have found the missing links in the man’s history. My business to-day is of a different kind.’ He went on to explain the state of affairs at Cedar House. Mr. Otranto shook his head doubtfully. ‘I think you ought to put this into the hands of the regular police,’ he said; ‘my line is private inquiry. This is rather out of my way.’ ‘But it isn’t out of your old way, Mr. Otranto, when you belonged to the regular police. If I were to go to the police-station they’d send a loud-talking noisy man to examine the premises, and frighten the invalid gentleman I’ve been telling you about. I want the property recovered, if possible, and the place closely watched; but I want the thing done quietly, and I’d rather trust it in your hands than make a police-case of it.’ ‘Very well, sir; I’ll do my best. I’ll send a quiet hand round to Cedar House at nine o’clock to-night.’ ‘Good; but he must come in at the back. I’ll have some one on the watch for him at nine. I’d better write my directions as to the way he must come. The young lady’s sitting-room is in the front of the house; so he mustn’t come in that way, for fear she should see him.’ Lucius wrote his instructions for the detective. He was to come from the barges to the garden, as the thief had come, and he would see a door ajar, and a light burning in one of the outbuildings. This was the door by which he was to enter. ‘And now, sir, for a description of the property,’ said Mr. Otranto, ‘if you want me to trace it.’ ‘A description?’ ‘Yes to be sure. I can do nothing without that.’ ‘I never thought of that,’ replied Lucius, feeling himself a poor creature when face to face with this practical far-seeing detective; ‘you will want a description of course. I only know that there are Queen Anne teapots, Cromwell tankards—’ ‘Queen Anne be hanged!’ exclaimed the detective contemptuously. ‘Some curious old saltcellars, and a monstrance.’