‘Good evening, Miss Racksole,’ said Felix Babylon, bowing formally. ‘This is an unexpected pleasure.’ Felix’s drawing-room manners never deserted him upon any occasion whatever. ‘May I inquire what you are doing in my wine cellar, Nella Racksole?’ said the millionaire a little stiffly He was certainly somewhat annoyed at having mistaken his daughter for a criminal; moreover, he hated to be surprised, and upon this occasion he had been surprised beyond any ordinary surprise; lastly, he was not at all pleased that Nella should be observed in that strange predicament by a stranger. ‘I will tell you,’ said Nella. ‘I had been reading rather late in my room--the night was so close. I heard Big Ben strike half-past twelve, and then I put the book down, and went out on to the balcony of my window for a little fresh air before going to bed. I leaned over the balcony very quietly--you will remember that I am on the third floor now--and looked down below into the little sunk yard which separates the wall of the hotel from Salisbury Lane. I was rather astonished to see a figure creeping across the yard. I knew there was no entrance into the hotel from that yard, and besides, it is fifteen or twenty feet below the level of the street. So I watched. The figure went close up against the wall, and disappeared from my view. I leaned over the balcony as far as I dared, but I couldn’t see him. I could hear him, however.’ ‘What could you hear?’ questioned Racksole sharply. ‘It sounded like a sawing noise,’ said Nella; ‘and it went on for quite a long time--nearly a quarter of an hour, I should think--a rasping sort of noise.’ ‘Why on earth didn’t you come and warn me or someone else in the hotel?’ asked Racksole.