being given up, when there was a sharp rap at the door, and Guest caught
up candle and matches and led the way out on to the landing, followed by
Stratton, who looked as if he were in a dream.

The sergeant was outside with a man of the regular carpenter class, with
a bag swung over his shoulder by a hammer passed through the handles.

"Here we are, gentlemen," said the police officer. "Candle? Shan't
want it, sir; I have a lantern, and it will be handier. You wish it all
to be done quietly, you say, but I'm afraid our friend here will make a
little noise with his tools. People downstairs will hear."

"They are only offices below," said Guest.

"Upstairs, then?"

"No one there in the evening."

"That's right then, sir. Which is the door?"

At a word from Guest, Stratton moved across the landing and turned down
the passage in which Brettison's doorway stood, moving still in the same
dreamy fashion, as his friend's will forced him to act, and as they
reached the doorway the sergeant turned on his lantern, so that the
light played about the keyhole.

"Now, Jem," he said, "have a look at it. What do you say?"

The man slouched up, and the shadow of his head, with its closely
fitting cap, glided about on the door, as he turned from side to side to
get a good look at the little opening.

"Light more this way, matey," he growled, in an ill-used tone. "That'll
do. Steady, please. I don't want to look at the 'inges."

"There you are, then. Well, is it a pick? or a saw-out?"

"Pick," said the man, swinging his bag down on to the floor and opening
it by drawing out the hammer.

There was a faint jingle as the bag was opened, and its owner looked up
in a protesting way.

"Can't work if you make a Jacky Lantern game of it, matey. I want to
see."

The light of the lantern was directed into the bag, revealing a stock, a
box of centre bits, a keyhole saw, and a couple of bunches of attenuated
keys, some of which were merely a steel wire turned at right angles at
the end.

"Nice, respectable looking character this, gentlemen," said the sergeant
dryly. "Supposed to be an honest man; but if a `tec' got hold of him
with a bag like that he'd have to say a great deal before anyone would
believe him. That one do, my lad?"

"No, too big," said the workman huskily, and he began to whistle softly
as he coolly selected another hook-like skeleton key from his bunch;
while Guest stood watching the pair with a str