"Not very well. I caught a glimpse of him under a lamp-post, but the fog was so thick that I obtained only a vague impression. He seemed to be a fair, innocent-looking boy with fair hair--the kind of pure angelic creature depicted by painters as a chorister." "By Jove!" Conniston dashed down his pipe excitedly. "You describe Judas to the life. The plot thickens." "The plot----" "The plot which was to involve you in the crime, and, by Jove! those who contrived it must have hired Judas to be your guide." "Are you sure that this is the lad--Mrs. Moon's grandson?" "As sure as I can be from your word-painting. Jerry--Judas suits him much better--is just what you say: an innocent, butter-won't-melt-in-my-mouth sort of brat who looks like an angel and acts like a denizen of the infernal regions. And now I remember," went on Dick, "the little brute spoke to me after you left me when we talked in the Park. He was then bare-footed and selling matches." "This boy must be the same," said Bernard, thoughtfully. "He also had bare feet and carried boxes of matches in his hand." "It's Judas sure enough!" muttered Conniston, pulling his mustache and staring gloomily into the fire. "I wonder what he was doing in that galley? You followed him?" "Yes, because he mentioned the Red Window. But for that I should have suspected something wrong. I don't care about following strange urchins. But only Lucy knew about the Red Window." "She might have told Beryl." "What do you mean?" "Never mind. Go on with your tale." "Well, I followed the boy. He kept a little ahead of me, and several times when I got lost in the fog he reappeared." "Judas is as clever as his father, the Accuser of the Brethren. How long were you getting to Crimea Square?" "Allowing for stoppages, three-quarters of an hour. All the trouble took place about a quarter to eleven." "Did you see the Red Window?" "I saw a red glare in a window on the first floor. I don't suppose the glass was red, but think some red material must have been placed over a lamp and that placed close to the window." "Might have been a blind," mused Dick, "and yet when Beryl looked and his friend Mrs. Webber they saw no Red Window. Are you sure?" "I am certain," responded Gore, emphatically. "When I saw the Red Window I was convinced that Lucy had sent for me, and, thinking that she had persuaded my grandfather to relent, I would have entered the house for a personal interview but that Mrs. Gilroy came out." "Could you be seen from the house?" "I don't think so, the fog was very thick remember." "Was any signal given?" Bernard looked hard at his friend. "You think it was a trap?" "I am certain. Was there any signal?" "A peculiar kind of whistle. Something like this!" Gore whistled in a kind of ascending scale shrilly and in a particularly high key. The effect on Conniston was strange. He jumped up from his seat and walked hurriedly to and fro.