After that, regular quarterly payments in advance. Peterssen made lame attempts to hold out for larger sum down on the nail. I stood my ground. Peterssen gave way. If he'd been flush of money would have seen me further first. Interview terminated. We go out to Sophy, otherwise Maria. Girl very happy, playing with two stones. 'Let her have her way,' I say, 'won't give you a bit of trouble.' I wish her good-by. She takes not the slightest notice of me. Begins to whistle. Clever girl, Sophy. Gives me a silly look, that's all. I speak to man, otherwise keeper, aside. 'Don't bother her,' I say, 'and she won't bother you. Treat her kindly, and you get a crown a week. Here's first fortnight in advance.' Keeper promises to be good to her, and not to interfere with her. A crown a week buys him body and soul. Sophy all right. Shake hands with Peterssen, pat Sophy on the head, and make my way here. Not in a straight line. Hired fly some distance off in another direction. Leave Bob Tucker alone for putting people off the scent." There was nothing to find fault with in Bobgs description; all that I had wished for had been cleverly carried out, and everything seemed now to depend upon whether the desk of Indian wood was in Dr. Peterssen's establishment and whether Sophy would be able to obtain possession of it. But it was not without an uneasy feeling that I thought of Sophy being at the mercy of such a man as the master of Tylney House. Bob did his best to dispel my uneasiness. He was positive that Sophy was quite safe. Dr. Peterssen was seldom in the house, his inclinations and pleasures lying elsewhere, and the management of the establishment was left almost entirely in the hands of the keeper who Bob said he had bought for five shillings a week. "Doesn't get a tip once in a blue moon," said Bob. "That was evident from his manner of accepting mine. It was such a novelty that it almost knocked him over. Doesn't get too well paid, either. There's a tumbledown air about Tylney House which made me think of a man on his last legs. One thing is certain. Peterssen's heart is not in it. Mind occupied by matters more engrossing. Generally savage look upon his face. The fellow's ripe." "For what, Bob?" "For any kind of villainy, from pitch and toss to manslaughter. Wouldn't stop short of manslaughter. Oh, I know my customer." "Did you see any of the other patients?" I asked. "No," answered Bob. "Kept out of the way, most likely. Looked about for harmless patient green-grocer's boy spoke of. Didn't catch a glimpse of him."