This idea made us look rather mean. It is not nice to be caught playing the spy upon a man in his supposed absence. Only the oaken door separated us from the cell within, so that the artist, if he _were_ there, must have overheard our suspicions of him. We all three listened with our ears pressed close to the door, but could not detect the faintest sound within. "Angelo, are you here?" cried the Baronet, rapping on the door; "we have come to see how the picture is going on." There was no reply, and all our words and knockings failed to evoke any. "You must have made a mistake, Frank," said my uncle, as we relinquished our efforts, and turned to go away. "I think not," I replied, having my doubts on the matter nevertheless. "Angelo can't be painting now," remarked Sir Hugh. "This dim twilight would not permit it. And if he has been at it earlier in the day, his fire would surely have been lit; but," glancing back and pointing to a little chimney-turret on the battlemented roof of the tower, "we have seen no smoke." "Yes," returned I; "but if Angelo wishes to keep his presence there a secret--and secrecy seems to be a _sine quâ non_ in all his undertakings--he won't have a fire." "Well, then he'll be confoundedly clever if his chilled fingers can handle the brush with any delicacy of touch in this cold atmosphere," said the Baronet with a shiver, for the air was extremely damp and cold. "Sir Hugh," said my uncle, "if you are certain that the picture is concealed in this tower, why not force an entrance?" "Well," replied the Baronet doubtfully, "there is just the possibility that it may _not_ be there, which would be rather awkward; for Angelo on his return would see the broken lock, and learn that we have been playing the spy on him, which is exactly what we have been doing," added he with a cynical smile, "but there's no need for him to know it." Evidently the Baronet regarded espionage very much as the ancient Spartans regarded theft. There was no dishonor in the act--the dishonor consisted in being found out. "I shall tell Angelo," Sir Hugh continued, "when he returns, that as we have thoroughly examined the Abbey, including the apartments allotted to my guests, without coming upon the picture, we must, in common fairness, subject even _his_ sacred studio to the same investigation." "And supposing he refuses to submit to this?" said my uncle. "Then I shall assert my authority as master of Silverdale, and order an examination of the tower. Ugh! how cold it is!" he added. "Let us get back to the library fire. I feel frozen." Twilight was coming on apace, and a dim silvery mist was gradually veiling the landscape from our view as we turned to enter the Abbey.