He reserved his examination of the study till the last. He found some cigarette ends in the fireplace and picked them up cautiously, examining the brand with the light of his lantern. These he wrapped carefully in a piece of paper, and placed in his waistcoat pocket. He opened all the drawers and methodically examined them, replacing them just as he had found them, and relocked the drawers after him with a curious key which he took from his pocket. After a while he mounted the stairs. De Costa occupied the first room on the second floor, and the door faced the stairs, and on the right was another door, which led to the dressing-room, which again gave access to the principal bedroom. The visitor made no attempt to force the door for some minutes, but devoted his attention to the door on the right. It opened easily. He stood in the doorway listening. For all he knew De Costa may have had alarms fixed; but no bell or buzzer woke the stillness of the night. He closed the door gently behind him; the floor was carpeted with thick felt, and the precaution he had taken of enclosing his feet in goloshes was unnecessary. In this room, as he knew, was the intimate safe of the merchant’s. He had come prepared to open that safe and inspect its interior. In his pocket was a heavy iron bottle containing sufficient oxygen for his purpose, and in another pocket the blow-pipe and the instruments necessary to burn out the lock of the safe. He switched on his pocket light, and turned it unhesitatingly in the direction of where the safe was to be found. Instantly his thumb closed upon the switch, and his light went out. Facing him was a man who stood with his back to the safe. His face was covered with a black crêpe mask, and in his hand, pointing insistently in the direction of the other, was a long-barrelled Colt revolver. He might have saved himself the trouble of switching off his light, for instantly from the stranger’s disengaged hand a white beam of light shot out. He had come similarly equipped. “Go downstairs,” whispered the man by the safe, “and keep your hands away from your pockets.” There was nothing for the burglar to do but to obey. Without a word he turned and walked out of the room, the other following a few paces behind. “To the kitchen!” whispered the second man, and the burglar turned obediently. They entered the big, underground kitchen together, the second man closing the door behind him before he felt on the wall for the switch. In a minute the room was illuminated, and they stood facing each other. “Who are you?” asked the second man quietly. “I prefer to remain anonymous,” said the burglar. He was the taller of the two, a man above medium height, and his voice had just that touch of culture which one does not expect from a member of the criminal classes. “I prefer to see your face,” said the second man. The burglar shrugged his shoulders.