Cosway and Engleheart did not detain him to-night. He opened the bottom drawer. There lay the Holbein for which Mr. Meyer had recently paid three thousand guineas. Lucas dropped it carefully into the pocket of his Norfolk jacket, shut the drawer, and closed the case. So far all was well--very well indeed. Only a few yards, a curtain, and a few yards more, lay between him and freedom. Then again there fell upon him a sense of Mr. Meyer's personality. What had that man not done? He had browbeaten an Emperor, hoodwinked a couple of wily Chancellors, and decimated the ranks of rival practitioners. Was he, John Lucas, a mere tyro in the burglary profession, able to outwit the smartest man of the day? Had he only to break a window, step across a floor, seize a treasure, and depart? No--it was impossible. The very ease with which everything had been accomplished was the worst sign of all. "I have gone into de question of dieves, and tink I should be able to meet de situation." Meyer's words came back to him now. He himself was in town--Lucas had seen him depart that morning, to make it absolutely certain--but his myrmidons were doubtless hidden around. An electric shock would suddenly hold him fast, and Meyer's butler or stage manager, or whatever he was called, would appear and wing him--unless the servants were asleep in their master's absence. But nothing was ever left to chance in Mr. Meyer's life or his house. The very silence was eloquent of impending catastrophe. Again Mr. Lucas reproached himself with nervous folly. "It is only my second burglary," he reflected apologetically. He stepped across the hall, and once more raised the curtain. "Ah!" The room, which ten minutes ago was dark and empty, was now brilliantly illuminated, and there was Mr. Adolph Meyer, seated in his chair! Meyer rose and came forward. "Ah, Mr. Lucas," he said, "dis is indeed a pleasure. Not altokedder unexbected, I admit; but it is always satisfactory to find one's conclusions brove correct. I taught you would have to return to make some final notes on my domestic architecture and my curios. You have seen my place by day. Now you visit me by night. Dat is charming." Lucas stood by the curtain, overwhelmed with confusion. Not by a word did Mr. Meyer betray any resentment at his presence, but there was a thinly disguised vein of banter in his speech that made the burglar's pulses quicken. "Berhaps you have not noticed de view I have here, Mr. Lucas," said Meyer. "Come and look." He threw open the window wide. The moon was playing on the waters of the Channel. Clouds were scurrying across the sky. A lighthouse flashed in the far distance. "I like dis view," said Meyer. "De sea is always de same--deep and treacherous. One always knows what to exbect, but man you never know. How do you look upon de sea, Mr. Lucas?" "Good for boating, and--er--bathing," responded Lucas desperately.