“We are now in the other house,” said Clara, laying her hand on the detective’s arm, which she found in the dark. “Here is a stairway which I accidentally discovered last summer, and which I have used on several occasions.” “It leads down to the room where I saw the light, doesn’t it?” “Not exactly. There is a hole in the ceiling. I made it with a knife. You see, I didn’t know how soon I would be wanting to find out something about my neighbors, so I haven’t been idle.” “You’re worth your weight in gold, Clara.” In a little while Carter found himself in another dark place, and Clara pointed to a ray of light that seemed to come up from some place under their feet, and the detective drew closer. “Put your eye down to it,” said the woman. This Nick did, and soon became accustomed to the scene beneath him. He was looking into a large and expensively furnished room. Pictures in large gilt frames were arranged on the walls, and thick Brussels carpet covered the floor. The chandeliers were of expensive make, and everything betokened great wealth. The room was inhabited at the time by a man who reclined in an armchair under the main light. Carter knew him at once. It was Claude Lamont. The detective had a good chance to study the young man’s features, and he could note how eager he seemed to greet some one. He was not kept long in suspense when the door leading to the main hall opened and some one entered. “George Richmond--my old friend,” smiled Nick, as he watched the other one. “He gave me the slip in the tall building, and now greets his old chum, Claude.” “You’re a little behind,” said Claude, looking at his friend. “You must have had an adventure.” “That’s just what I’ve had,” laughed the other, taking a cigar from the open box on the table at Lamont’s elbow. “Say I didn’t play it on the shrewdest old ferret in the city, will you?” “On a detective? What, have you had a bout with one of those people?” “Haven’t I? I left him in durance, and it will be some time before he gets out, I’m thinking.” “Come, tell the whole story. I’ve had a little adventure myself,” exclaimed Lamont. “You don’t mean to say that you’ve had a little episode with our friend Carter?” “With no one else.” “Why didn’t you silence him?” “I hardly know. But we’ll fix him later on.” “Did he know you?” “Yes.” “What gave you away?” “One of my old cards. I lost it in the den.” “Oh, you’ve been back there, eh?” “Yes. I went back to give the old place another inspection. I sounded the walls and inspected the floor, but I couldn’t find the papers.” “Then they don’t exist.” “I’m beginning to think that way myself. But the old hag certainly knew the truth, and don’t you think she made out just such papers intending to leave them some day to the girl or to the street rat?”