rence with the
conditions under which the waxworker chose to conduct his labours,
he seemed, himself, to realize that the proceeding did not mend
matters, and, releasing his hold upon the blind, let the spring of
the roller carry it up again to its original position. As he did
this he said with a peculiarly asinine air:

"That's a bit worse than the other, by Jip! Makes the blessed place
too dashed dark altogether; so it's not the light that's to blame
after all."

"I should have thought even a fool might have known that!" gave
back the waxworker, almost savagely. "The light is poor enough as
it is. Look for yourself. It is only the afterglow--and even that
is already declining. _Pouffe!_" And here, as if in disgust too
great for words, he blew the breath from his lips with a sharp,
short gust, and facing about again went back to his work on the
tableau.

Cleek made no response; nor yet did Trent. By this time even he had
begun to think that accident more than brains must have been at the
bottom of the man's many successes; that he was, in reality, nothing
more than a blundering muddler; and, after another ten minutes of
putting up with his crazy methods, had just made up his mind to
appeal to Narkom for the aid of another detective, when the end
which was all along being prepared came with such a rush that it
fairly made his head swim.

All that he was ever able clearly to recall of it was that there
came a sudden sound of clattering footsteps rushing pell-mell up
the staircase; that the partition door was flung open abruptly to
admit Mr. Maverick Narkom, with three or four of the firm's employees
pressing close upon his heels; that the superintendent had but just
cried out excitedly, "Yes, man, _yes!_" when there arose a wild
clatter of falling figures, a snarl, a scuffle, a cry, and that,
when he faced round in the direction of it, there was the Lucknow
tableau piled up in a heap of fallen scenery and smashed waxworks,
and in the middle of the ruin there was the "signor" lying on his
back with a band of steel upon each wrist, and over him Cleek, with a
knee on the man's chest and the look of a fury in his eyes, crying
aloud: "Come out of it! Come out of it, you brute-beast! Your little
dodge has failed!"

And hard on the heels of that shock Mr. Trent received another. For
of a sudden he saw Cleek pluck a wig from the man's head and leave
a white line showing above the place where the joining paste once had
m