With this doubtful tribute of admiration, Gebb calmly proceeded to turn over the papers on the writing-table, and examine the drawers. But he could find no letter from Edith amongst the loose papers, and the drawers proved to be locked, which showed that Ferris was a more cautious man than his conduct in pawning the necklace indicated. How far Gebb would have proceeded with his search, or how successful he would have been, it is hard to say; for just as he was casting his eyes towards a bureau which, he thought, might contain papers likely to illuminate Ferris and his dark ways, the door opened and the man himself entered with a brisk step. He appeared agitated and rather pale, but on the whole composed and business-like. For a moment or so he did not speak, but looked at Gebb with no very friendly expression of countenance. On his side, the detective scrutinized the face of the newcomer with close attention, to see in what degree he corresponded to the descriptions of Prain and Martin. He beheld a tall and slender man, with an intelligent expression and brilliant black eyes. On his short upper lip there was a small pointed moustache, which gave him a rather military appearance, and on his right cheek a purple mark, the size of a sixpence, but which--his skin being so dark--did not show very conspicuously. He was dressed quietly and in good style, and to all appearance was a man who respected himself too much to indulge in the profligacy with which he was credited by Prain. Gebb was rather favourably impressed by him than otherwise, and could not help regretting his errand. "I am told you are waiting to see me," said Ferris, civilly. "May I inquire your business?" "Is your name Arthur Ferris?" "It is. May I ask what----" "I arrest you in the Queen's name!" interrupted Gebb, laying one hand on the young man's shoulder, and with the other drawing forth his warrant. Ferris turned white even to the lips, and leaped back with an exclamation of alarm and surprise. The detective's action seemed to amaze him. "Arrest me! Why? What for? Who are you?" "My name is Gebb; I am a detective. Here is my warrant for your arrest, Mr. Ferris, on a charge of murder." "Murder!" repeated Ferris, much agitated, as was natural. "You accuse me of murder? There is some mistake." "People in your position always say so," replied Gebb, dryly; "but there is no mistake. You murdered a woman called Gilmar on the twenty-fourth of July last." "It's a lie! I no more murdered Miss Gilmar than you did." "That has yet to be proved, sir. Here is my warrant, and I have a couple of men outside in case of need. However, I have no desire to make trouble, and if you come along with me quietly, I shall use you civilly. We can drive to the prison in a hansom." Ferris, who was looking round wildly, as though for some means of escape, started and recoiled at the sound of the ill-omened word.