“Deuced peculiar way of entering my own garden,” muttered Charles Stewart. Goodall put his fingers to his lips. “Silence—everybody—please—not a syllable—gentlemen.” Suddenly a figure flitted out from behind a bush. Peter quivered with excitement. Anthony caught it by the arm. “That you, Patrick?” he whispered softly. Goodall turned round again angrily, but Anthony held up his finger with a gesture that betokened silence. “Ay, sir, it’s Patrick O’Connor. I fixed that little job for you—and father’s up near the window—as you told him, sir. Nothing’s happened yet, sir—I’ve watched since the time you mentioned.” Anthony expressed approval. “Fall in with us, Patrick—and as quietly as you know how.” Two or three minutes later came another order from the Inspector. “Now sort yourselves out—and keep within half a dozen yards of one another—and nobody’s to move forward after taking up position unless ordered by me or Mr. Bathurst here.” As he spoke a light suddenly flashed and lit up one of the rooms. Peter started as he saw it. “Which room’s that?” he queried of Anthony in a whisper. “Not sure—watch the house carefully—get away to my right—three yards will be ample.” For a long time nothing happened—till just as suddenly as previously a second room flashed into light. Anthony tiptoed over to Daventry. “One of the bedrooms now—on the second floor—I really think things are moving. I’m going forward a bit to have a word with Goodall.” The Inspector listened sagely and was on the point of making his reply when Anthony gripped his arm. “Listen, Goodall, listen. Hear that? A car! It’s driven up to the house—it’s going up the drive now—can’t you hear it?” Goodall cocked his head in the darkness—then turned swiftly and silently. “Get the men to their places, Mr. Bathurst—we haven’t long to wait now, I’ll lay any odds.” Goodall’s instructions were instantly obeyed, and Peter Daventry was perfectly certain in his own mind that everybody could hear plainly the sound of his heart beating. But nobody appeared to—nobody turned on him angrily with an order to stop the noise his heart was making—so he concluded after a time that the noise wasn’t anything like as bad as he imagined and that his fears were exaggerated. Anthony flitted noiselessly across to the Inspector. “Stay here—all of you—I’m going forward a bit—don’t do anything till I come back and give you the word.” He slipped away in the darkness. Keeping well in the shadow, he silently approached the library. A figure suddenly materialized, peering at him for a brief moment of palpitating suspense. Suddenly Anthony felt his hand gripped in a grasp that would have made many a man wince.