"There, there!" whispered Dr. Pye. "What do you see?" Dr. Vinsen peered into the night. "I see nothing." "Stand back." Swift as thought he threw the flash-light upon the windows of Samuel Boyd's house. Then he masked the shutter and turned on the gas. Accompanied by Dr. Vinsen, who jealously watched his every movement, he stepped to the table, withdrew the film from the little machine, and developed it. And there before them came gradually into view the pictured presentment of the face and form of Samuel Boyd, standing at the window of his house in Catchpole Square. Dr. Vinsen's face was pallid, his eyes dilated, his teeth chattered. Dr. Pye's face was thoughtful, introspective. "Do you believe now?" he asked in an undertone. Dr. Vinsen passed his hand confusedly across his brows. "We had certain plans," continued Dr. Pye; "are they to be carried out to-night?" "Not to-night; not to-night," replied Dr. Vinsen, turning towards the door. The next moment Dr. Pye was alone. CHAPTER XLII. A FAMILY COUNCIL. On the following morning Aunt and Uncle Rob and Florence and Reginald sat at the breakfast table, waiting for Dick, who had not been home all night. Although they had had no word from him since he left them on the previous evening, they knew that he would join them at the earliest possible moment. It had been an anxious night with them, and they had had but little sleep. There were dark rims round Aunt Rob's eyes, and signs of unrest were on Uncle Rob's countenance. Singularly enough, the invalid of the party, Reginald, had gathered strength; his voice was firmer, his step more confident, and there was an expression on his face which denoted that he had prepared himself to meet the worst that fortune had in store for him. "Florence and I have been considering the straight and honest course to pursue," he said, "and we have decided. She wished me at first to be guided by your advice; but she is beginning to find out that she has married a wilful man." She gave him a tender smile, and put her hand in his. "It is not that I don't value your advice; but what would be the use of asking for it if I hadn't made up my mind to take it?" "No use, my dear," said Aunt Rob. "What have you decided to do?" "To offer a reward for the discovery of the murderer of my father." Aunt Rob nodded her approval, and would have expressed it had she not observed the grave look on her husband's face. So she held her tongue, and waited for him to speak. "It is not a plan we generally approve of," he remarked, after a pause, "and it seldom meets with success." "Has it ever?" asked Reginald. "Yes. A fifty to one chance."