Here Mr. Mask sat like a spider in his den, and the place was so full of cobwebs that it really suggested spiders in plenty. There was a rusty grate in which a fire was never lighted, an old mahogany bookcase filled with uninviting-looking volumes, and a tin wash-stand which was hidden behind a screen of shabby Indian workmanship. The walls were piled to the dingy ceiling with black japanned deed-boxes, with the names of various clients inscribed on them in white letters. Before the window--and dirty enough the glass of that was--stood a large mahogany table covered untidily with papers, deeds, briefs, memoranda, and such-like legal documents. A small clearing in front was occupied by red blotting paper, and a large lead ink bottle with a tray of pens. There was one chair for Mr. Mask and one for a client. Finally, as there was no carpet on the floor it may be guessed that the office was not an inviting-looking sanctum. Into this hole--as it might fitly be termed--Allen was shown one morning. He had not called immediately on Mr. Mask when he came to town, as he had been searching for his father for the last five days. But all inquiries proved futile. Allen went to the hotel at which Mr. Hill usually stayed, but could not find him there. He had not been stopping in the place for months. Allen sought the aid of the police, but they could not find Mr. Hill. Finally he put an advertisement in the paper, which remained unanswered. Also Allen had called on Mr. Hill's bankers, but found that he had not been near the place. It was so strange that Allen was beginning to feel afraid. The message conveyed in the symbol sent through Cain must be a very serious one, to make his father cut himself off from those who knew him, in this way. As a last resource, Allen came to see Mr. Mask, feeling he should have done this before. Mask had a large business, but on the face of it appeared to do very little in the dingy office. But he was a man who could be trusted with a secret, and many people who knew this intrusted him with affairs they wished kept quiet. Consequently Mask's business was sometimes rather shady, but he made a great deal of money by it, and that was all he cared about. A silent, cold man was Mask, and even in his own home at Bloomsbury he was secretive. Still the man had his good points, and had an undercurrent of good nature of which he was somewhat ashamed, heaven only knows why. If he had been as hard as he looked, he certainly would not have asked Mrs. Palmer to give poor Eva a home. "Well, Mr. Allen," said Mask, who called him thus to distinguish him from his father, whom he had known many years, "so you have come at last?" Allen, who was placing his hat on the floor, as there was no table to put it on, started and stared. "Did you expect me?"