The woman who answered the summons held a candle in her hand, and there was nothing particularly clever in my jumping at the conclusion that Louis' mother stood before me. Until this night I had never seen her or her son, nor, so far as I am aware, had they seen me. I had counted upon this as of importance in the move I was about to take. We being in the dark, and Mrs. Fordham in the light, we had the advantage of her. As she peered forward and held out her hand for the telegram, three of us darted into the passage, Wheeler, Bob Garlick, and myself. Jack was on the watch outside, to be called in by a whistle when he was required. Mrs. Fordham fell back with a shriek of alarm, and a man ran out of the nearest room, crying: "What's the matter?" This man had a scar on his forehead. "Mr. Louis Fordham, I believe," I said, advancing, while Mrs. Fordham continued to retreat. "Yes." "No." The two answers came simultaneously from the man and the woman, the man acknowledging his name, the woman denying it. We were moving slowly towards the room from which Louis had emerged, and now reached the door. Mrs. Fordham flung herself against it, and crying, "You can't come in here--this is a private house," actually had the boldness to blow out the candle. I could not but admire her for it, for she must have seen that there were three of us, and pluck, especially in a woman, always commands my admiration. But she reckoned without her host, for two bull's eye lanterns instantly flashed their light upon her face. "Have you come to rob us?" she demanded. "I will call the police." "Save yourself the trouble," I replied. "We are officers, and I warn you not to resist. Here is a police whistle, if you would like to use it." She did not take it, and driving her and Louis before us we entered the room. The gas was lighted there, and it was clear to see what was going on. Trunks and bags were open, and the floor was littered with clothing and traveling requirements, on the point of being packed away. "Preparing for a journey?" I remarked. "That doesn't concern you," Mrs. Fordham retorted. "No, it concerns you more than us," I said. "I am afraid your journey will have to be postponed." I motioned to Wheeler, and pointed to an inner door which communicated with another apartment. "See who is in there." "It is my bedroom," screamed Mrs. Fordham. "You ruffians--how dare you?" "See who is in there," I repeated. "There is nobody there," she said. We did not take her word for it. Wheeler examined the apartment, and returning, said it was empty. "Whom did you expect to find?' demanded Mrs. Fordham. "Shall I give him a name?" "You can do as you please about that." "Oh, I thought you wanted to know." "You shall suffer for this," she said, but curiosity was too much for her. "Give him a name, then." "What do you say to a party of the name of Maxwell?"