I was about to go out into the passage, when Whichelo caught me by the shoulder and pulled me back. "Scatter-brained Englishman!" he exclaimed, half in jest. "Doesn't it occur to you that Paulton may be, and probably is, waiting with a gun?" I confess it had not occurred to me. "Then how can we get out?" I asked quickly. "Just wait," he answered, "and I'll show you." At this moment we heard voices in the house, apparently in the large entrance-hall--men's gruff voices. Also there was a tramp of many footfalls. The murmur approached. A door opened and shut. Some of the men were coming along the passage in our direction. They stopped abruptly, as they reached the pantry where we now stood. At once we saw they were policemen--plain-clothes men, in golf-caps and overcoats, yet by their cut, unmistakably policemen. They looked us up and down suspiciously. Then one of them spoke. "Where are Paulton and his accomplices?" was the sharp inquiry. "Somewhere in this house," Whichelo answered. "I haven't seen them yet." "Not seen 'em! Then why are you here?" Whichelo produced a card, and handed it to the speaker. Then he unfolded a letter he had withdrawn from his breast-pocket, and handed him that too. This letter was from Thorold, dated some days previously. It contained a request that Whichelo should go to Houghton and begin to make arrangements for his return there. Satisfied with our bona fides, the police-officers looked inquiringly at the smashed lock. "Well--and whose work is this?" one of the rural constables asked. "Mine," Whichelo answered. "Some one, probably the men you want, locked us in. The only way to get out was to smash the lock. And so I smashed it. I advise you to be careful in your search. Most likely they are armed, and probably they will be desperate at finding themselves entrapped. How did you find out they were here, officer?" "Two men and a woman, all answering the circulated description of Paulton, Henderson and the woman Coudron, were seen to alight at Oakham station from the last down express last night. They were followed. They hired a conveyance. Its driver was cross-questioned. And so we soon discovered their whereabouts." Whichelo had, indeed, done well to warn the police-officers to exercise caution in their search--as it afterwards proved. For a quarter of an hour no trace could be found of the "wanted" men and woman, though the cellars, as well as all the rooms on the ground floor, on the first floor, and the second floor were searched. In all, there were seven policemen. Whichelo and I accompanied them on their search, and I began to feel excited. "What about the attics?" Whichelo suggested at last. "I don't think they'll be there," the police-inspector answered. "I expect they've got off into the woods. Still, we may as well go up and see."