A woman, supported by two female friends, passed us. She was crying, and wringing her hands, and I learned that she was the housekeeper who had been saved. Instinctively I followed her, and my visible and invisible companions accompanied me. It was not a difficult matter to elicit from the housekeeper all the information it was in her power to impart. The gentleman who had met with so untimely an end was a single man, with few friends and no relations. "I don't think," said the housekeeper, "that he had a brother, or a sister, or a cousin in the world; leastways, so far as I know, no one ever came to see him who had any claim upon him. He was a quiet gentleman, and didn't give no trouble. What do you want to know, sir? Was he very rich? All I can say is he always paid his way, and always seemed to have plenty and to spare. His name? Mr. Alfred Warner, sir. Are you a friend of his?" "No," I replied--for it was I who had asked the questions to which she had replied--"I was not acquainted with him." "What name did she say?" asked Bob, in a whisper. "Mr. Alfred Warner," I said. Bob caught his breath, and said, "That's strange! It is the name of the gentleman who put into our hands No. 79 Lamb's Terrace." "There is the connection, Bob," I said. "What do you say now to the spectral cat and its having urged us to come to this fire?" "What can I say, except that it is most bewildering and mysterious?" "Do you think I am still laboring under a delusion?" "No, I do not." "It was not without a motive," I said, "that I asked your nephew this evening whether he believed that a man who is not interested in something which, to make myself fairly clear, I called a crime, might receive a spiritual visitation which compelled him to take an active part in its discovery. His reply was that he did believe such a thing could be. I believe it, too, more than ever now, after this strange fire; and I believe, also, that there is a crime involved in it, and that I--whether by design or accident I will not pretend to say--shall be instrumental in its discovery. My memory does not deceive me, does it, Bob? You told me yesterday that the gentleman who has met his death in that fire, Mr. Alfred Warner, when he placed 79 Lamb's Terrace in your employer's hands to let, did not mention the name of his last tenant." "Yes, I told you so," Bob answered, "and there seemed to be no reason why we should ask for it." "So that it is probable," I continued, "that there is not a disinterested person in London to whom we could go to obtain the name of the last tenant." "Not that I am aware of," said Bob. I looked at my watch. It was ten o'clock. "If we went to your nephew's house, do you think we should find him up?" "Very likely." "I am going there, Bob. I have a question to ask him."