ccessor against thieves.
It was inexplicable, but it was certain.

"Why should he do it?" I asked.

"Precisely what I should wish to ask you. If he had any such
misgivings, why could he not come and tell me direct?"

"Will you speak to him about it?"

"There again I am in doubt. He might choose to deny that he wrote it."

"At any rate," said I, "this warning is meant in a friendly spirit, and
I should certainly act upon it. Are the present precautions enough to
insure you against robbery?"

"I should have thought so. The public are only admitted from ten till
five, and there is a guardian to every two rooms. He stands at the
door between them, and so commands them both."

"But at night?"

"When the public are gone, we at once put up the great iron shutters,
which are absolutely burglar-proof. The watchman is a capable fellow.
He sits in the lodge, but he walks round every three hours. We keep
one electric light burning in each room all night."

"It is difficult to suggest anything more--short of keeping your day
watches all night."

"We could not afford that."

"At least, I should communicate with the police, and have a special
constable put on outside in Belmore Street," said I. "As to the
letter, if the writer wishes to be anonymous, I think he has a right to
remain so. We must trust to the future to show some reason for the
curious course which he has adopted."

So we dismissed the subject, but all that night after my return to my
chambers I was puzzling my brain as to what possible motive Professor
Andreas could have for writing an anonymous warning letter to his
successor--for that the writing was his was as certain to me as if I
had seen him actually doing it. He foresaw some danger to the
collection. Was it because he foresaw it that he abandoned his charge
of it? But if so, why should he hesitate to warn Mortimer in his own
name? I puzzled and puzzled until at last I fell into a troubled
sleep, which carried me beyond my usual hour of rising.

I was aroused in a singular and effective method, for about nine
o'clock my friend Mortimer rushed into my room with an expression of
consternation upon his face. He was usually one of the most tidy men
of my acquaintance, but now his collar was undone at one end, his tie
was flying, and his hat at the back of his head. I read his whole
story in his frantic eyes.

"The museum has been robbed!" I cried, springing up in bed.

"I fear so! T