The first to answer the call was Constable Pond, to whom the affair was hastily explained; and presently they were joined by another officer. "I see no harm in humouring Mr. Remington," then said Lambert. "Pond, you and this officer keep watch in the Square while we go into the house. There's only one way out of it, and there's only one way out of the Square." "There's the wall at the back," said Dick. "Which they've got over before this time----" "Supposing," Applebee put in, "there was anyone to get over it." "Yes, supposing that. When daylight comes we shall be able to ascertain if there are any fresh marks of a grapnel there." Dick set his teeth; his rope and grapnel were under the bed of his room in Constable Pond's house. "You wish to go into the house with us, Mr. Remington?" "Yes." "We must handcuff you. Give me the stick." He took possession of it, and Dick, with a groan, held out his hands. "Behind your back, Mr. Remington. I am sorry for the necessity, but there's no help for it. There, that's comfortable. Have you the key of the street door?" "In my trousers' pocket." Lambert put his hand beneath Dick's outer garment, and took the key from the pocket. Then he showed his revolver. "If we're attacked, Applebee, I'll account for the two men. Now, then." He opened the door. "You go first, Mr. Remington. Applebee, keep behind me, and be prepared." Throwing light upon their way with their bull's-eye lamps the two officers, preceded by Dick, ascended the stairs to the office. No person was there, nor in the bedroom. They went through all the rooms in the upper part of the house, with the same result. Lambert's experienced eye sought diligently for some sign of the presence of the men Dick had spoken of, but without success. "A trumped-up story," said Applebee aside to him, "but _I_ knew that all along." Lambert made no reply, but turned to Dick, "Anywhere else, Mr. Remington?" "The bottom of the house," replied Dick. Hope was dying within him. He knew that he would be searched at the police station, and that, in addition to other incriminating evidence, there would be found in his pocket the last words written by Samuel Boyd, the production of which would be fatal to Reginald. "Fool!" he thought. "Why have I kept it about me? Why did I not destroy it?" "Is there a cellar?" asked Lambert. "Yes." "I draw the line at cellars," objected Applebee. "We will go there," said Lambert curtly, and the constable was compelled to accompany them. "There is a trap door leading to the cellar," said Dick, hopelessly, when they reached the kitchen, for he saw that it had not been disturbed since he had last lifted it himself. Lambert raised it, and let himself down; ascending, he shook the dust from his clothes. "A regular rat hole," he said. "There's no one there." "Nor anywhere else," said Applebee, sulkily. "We're only wasting time. Let's get to the station."