So saying, my father swept the papers and charts off the table, locked the former in a safe, and placed the metal box with the now solved cipher in his pocket, then motioned us to retire, and extinguished the lamp. But for me, sleep was an impossibility. The exciting events of the past few days, culminating in my fortunate discovery, kept me awake, and in almost a fever of suppressed mental activity I was continually turning from side to side in a fruitless endeavour to sleep. Outside the wind was howling across the harbour, making the trees shiver and creak in a weird and disturbing manner. Presently the clock struck two, and at almost the same time a current of air rushed into my room, causing the half-open door to swing back against the wall. "Surely they cannot have forgotten to shut the hall door," I thought, and, jumping out of bed, I walked silently towards the staircase. The other inmates had been more fortunate than I; my father was sleeping soundly, while his brother was snoring heavily, the place seemingly trembling under the vibrations of his sonorous efforts, and even as I listened I heard a faint click as if the dining-room door was being opened. Instantly I crept into uncle's room, gently closed the door, and shook him by the shoulder. "Wake up!" I whispered. "There's some one broken into the house." "No luck," he muttered. "Twenty fathoms down. Try again to-morrow," and, turning over, he recommenced his discordant snoring. "Wake up!" I repeated, redoubling the shaking performance. "There's a burglar after the cipher." The word "cipher" did it, for in an instant he was up and fully awake. "Hush! Listen!" And carefully opening the door, I hastened to my father's room to arouse him. We sallied forth to meet the foe; my father and uncle led the way, the latter grasping a revolver, while I followed, feeling somewhat disjointed in my lower limbs. At the top of the stairs we waited for further signs of the burglar, and in the dismal silence, broken only by the moaning of the wind, I could feel my heart throbbing violently against my ribs. At length came the unmistakable sounds of some one moving cautiously. A man must naturally feel at a disadvantage when, clad mainly in pyjamas, he is forced single-handed to tackle a house-breaking ruffian; but, with three of us, and the comforting reassurance imparted by the revolver, the deficiency of wardrobe counted for little.