The two servants were brought up, and from one of them I learned that the sweeps had been simply a man and a boy. They had both been in the room for a little, and after the man had helped to lift out the grate and fasten up a blanket in the fire-place, he had gone up on the roof to complete the work, leaving the boy in the room alone. They believed that the boy was the sweep’s own son. I examined the carpet in front of the dressing-table. It showed no marks of sooty feet. I then looked at the drawer in which the articles had been secured, and finally took the key from the lock and smelt it. There was a distinct smell of soot about it, but then the whole room had a flavour of the kind just then, and the smell on the key might mean nothing. After taking down a minute description of the articles missing, and getting the sweep’s address, we left the house, and I directed M^cSweeny to go to the chimney-sweep and see what he could make of the case. We then parted, with the understanding that I also was to call at the sweep’s on my return. The man’s name was Sandy Brimely, and his place only a couple of streets from the spot. It was a dark dingy hole below the level of the street, and consisted of three rooms or cellars, lighted through gratings on the pavement. One place was used as a kitchen and sleeping-place, another smaller place was also used as a bedroom, and the third hole was used as a store-room for soot. This third place was in reality part of the first, but had been divided off by the wooden partition which kept the soot from sliding all over their living room. Sandy was standing at the head of the stair leading down to this sooty abode when M^cSweeny arrived. His work was generally over by that time, except when a godsend came in shape of a chimney afire, and Sandy leant against the wall enjoying his pipe as peacefully as if there had been no such beings as detectives in the world. He was a sly, oily tongued fellow, but so far as I know had never been convicted of any worse crime than beating his wife, or occasionally taking more whisky than he could carry unassisted. After a little preliminary blarney on both sides, during which it appeared that Sandy knew both M^cSweeny’s face and his profession, my chum considerably startled him by saying abruptly— “You were at Mrs Nolten’s, in George Square, this morning?” The sweep took the pipe from his mouth, with his pleased look effectually banished. If he had not been so sooty he might have been said to turn pale, so constrained and almost scared did he become. “Let me see. Yes—yes, I was there,” he awkwardly answered. “I was there doing two vents.” “Did you take anything away wid ye?” said M^cSweeny, pointedly. He expected the man, if guilty, to show signs of concern or confusion; but, if anything, the sweep looked brighter after the question. “Away with me?” he echoed, to gain time for the answer. “Of course I did. I took the soot.” “Nothing else?” suspiciously pursued M^cSweeny.