“He has gone to his room, sir. I believe that he should have a clear twelve hours’ sleep before fighting.” “What sort of day has he had?” “I did him lightly in the matter of exercise. Clubs, dumbbells, walking, and a half-hour with the mufflers. He’ll do us all proud, sir, or I’m a Dutchman! But what in the world’s amiss with the betting? If I didn’t know that he was as straight as a line, I’d ha’ thought he was planning a cross and laying against himself.” “It’s about that I’ve hurried down. I have good information, Belcher, that there has been a plot to cripple him, and that the rogues are so sure of success that they are prepared to lay anything against his appearance.” Belcher whistled between his teeth. “I’ve seen no sign of anything of the kind, sir. No one has been near him or had speech with him, except only your nephew there and myself.” “Four villains, with Berks at their head, got the start of us by several hours. It was Warr who told me.” “What Bill Warr says is straight, and what Joe Berks does is crooked. Who were the others, sir?” “Red Ike, Fighting Yussef, and Chris McCarthy.” “A pretty gang, too! Well, sir, the lad is safe, but it would be as well, perhaps, for one or other of us to stay in his room with him. For my own part, as long as he’s my charge I’m never very far away.” “It is a pity to wake him.” “He can hardly be asleep with all this racket in the house. This way, sir, and down the passage!” We passed along the low-roofed, devious corridors of the old-fashioned inn to the back of the house. “This is my room, sir,” said Belcher, nodding to a door upon the right. “This one upon the left is his.” He threw it open as he spoke. “Here’s Sir Charles Tregellis come to see you, Jim,” said he; and then, “Good Lord, what is the meaning of this?” The little chamber lay before us brightly illuminated by a brass lamp which stood upon the table. The bedclothes had not been turned down, but there was an indentation upon the counterpane which showed that some one had lain there. One-half of the lattice window was swinging on its hinge, and a cloth cap lying upon the table was the only sign of the occupant. My uncle looked round him and shook his head. “It seems that we are too late,” said he. “That’s his cap, sir. Where in the world can he have gone to with his head bare? I thought he was safe in his bed an hour ago. Jim! Jim!” he shouted. “He has certainly gone through the window,” cried my uncle. “I believe these villains have enticed him out by some devilish device of their own. Hold the lamp, nephew. Ha! I thought so. Here are his footmarks upon the flower-bed outside.”