The boards covering the windows were about an inch thick, but, with the slovenliness unfortunately too common among British workmen, they had been nailed up "anyhow," and between the two boards immediately facing me was a space an inch or more. Through that, I saw the weak light, as of a candle. Two rungs higher up I climbed, leant forward, and endeavoured to glue my eye to this crack, in order to peer into the room. It was by no means easy to see more than a narrow strip of the room, and that strip was empty. Guessing, however, that something I should be able to see must soon happen in the room, I decided to wait. I suppose I must have waited about five minutes--it seemed like a quarter of an hour--my eye was beginning to ache, and I had a crick in my neck, when of a sudden a shadow fell across the bare boards--the strip of floor that I could see--and then a second shadow. A moment later a man stood in the room, his back to the window, a light in his hand. At once I recognised the man by his colossal stature. It was the dark giant I knew as Davies. What was he doing? I could not see. Some one was beside him, also with his back turned. I started. This second man was Sir Charles Thorold, undoubtedly. They were conversing, but I could not, of course, catch their words. Sir Charles was bending down. He seemed to be on all fours. Now Davies was on all fours too. They were both crawling on all fours about the floor, as though searching for something. With breathless interest I watched them. They had passed out of my range of vision, though a pair of feet were still visible. The feet remained in sight for quite a long time, ten minutes or more. Then they too disappeared. "What on earth are they about?" was my mental comment. "What can they be seeking?" It had seemed obvious that they had been trying to find something. Still on the ladder I waited, hoping that something more might happen, but I saw nothing more, and presently the light was extinguished. I judged that some one had carried the candle into another room. Apparently there was no object in waiting longer on the ladder, so I cautiously descended to the ground again. I felt satisfied, and yet dissatisfied, with the result of my observation. It was satisfactory to know who the people were who visited the house in this mysterious way in the small hours. But it was unsatisfactory not to have found out why they went there at that time of night, and thus secretively--or why they went there at all. Just as I reached the ground, thought of the advertisement I had noticed in the _Morning Post_ floated back into my mind-- "_Meet me_ 2." Could there be any connexion between that advertisement and these mysterious visits at two in the morning? It seemed unlikely, and yet it was somewhat curious.