The wondering Robert did as he was ordered.

"Take hold of the button that moves the valves and pull it toward you."

Robert followed these instructions minutely, and to his astonishment and the miser's consternation the radiator itself swung away from the wall.

"What!" cried the startled invalid as he beheld this confirmation of his fear that he had neglected to spring the catch that held the radiator on the occasion of the mishap which resulted in his confinement to the bed, "Look within. Is the inner compartment closed?"

"No!" replied Robert.

"My God!" groaned Raikes as he realized that his treasury had been thus unguarded during his illness. "Tell me how many bags there are."

Robert removed them one by one, and deposited them on the table.

As the miser followed the movements of his nephew with anxious notation, a sigh of unutterable relief welled from the innermost depths of his bosom.

The bags had been untouched!

There was no further loss, and the clinking weight assured him that his nocturnal visitor had made no more of his gross substitutions.

"Listen, Robert," said Raikes with laborious amiability, as his astonished nephew seated himself near the bedside, "it has been my purpose to conceal this hiding place from any living soul, but I find that I have not succeeded.

"Some one has made three visits to that recess and helped himself to as many bags of coin."

Robert, remembering his uncle's well-known secrecy and the unusual precautions taken by him to secure his room from intrusion, looked his incredulity, which stimulated Raikes into exclaiming:

"Ah, but you do not know how incredible it is. Wait until you hear all.

You will wonder what human agency could penetrate these locks, open the doors of this hiding place, extract the plunder, restore the locks to their original condition, and re-issue into the passageway without disturbing the latches or the crossbar. My losses are supernatural. Now follow me carefully and confess that you have not heard anything so ghastly, so unreal as what I am about to relate."

As Raikes proceeded in his narrative, his nephew was at first inclined to receive these weird confidences as features of the unhappy man's condition, but as the latter progressed, with a constantly increasing degree of his customary emotionless lucidity, his sincerity became apparent.

"And now," concluded Raikes, "what have you to say to all this? Is it not worthy of a Poe or a Maupassant? I tell you, I must have some explanation of this mystery or I shall go mad."

During this singular recital the young man's mind, stimulated by the eerie perplexities and the unhappy denouement, had been busy.

It was not difficult to convince himself of the futility of any of his own speculations; the nearness of the calamity affected him, in a degree, as it did the withered invalid.

He had a sound brain, nourished by a well sustained body; his intelligence was apt and rapid, but these unheard-of complications demanded a morbid analysis of which he was incapable.

On this basis, however, as his uncle had proceeded, Robert had been able to develop a suggestion; he could offer that, at least.

In reply, therefore, to the feverish questions of his uncle, the young man said:

"In so far as I am able to see, your disasters have narrowed your range of discernment. They are too recent; they affect you too nearly. Under such conditions we take counsel of our prejudices instead of our judgment. Your thoughts are apt to return to the central feature of your loss. It is not natural to expect one to dismiss such a consideration in order to make way for others which might help you in your search.

"On my part, the incident is new and stimulating, but the ideas it awakens lead to nothing. However, I should not regard the case as impossible until I had tried at least one means of solution."

"What is that?" demanded Raikes, diverted, if not convinced, by the sensible observations of his nephew.

"You have heard of Gratz?" inquired Robert.

"Of the secret service?"

"Yes."

"Ah!" cried the old man; "to submit the case to him means another in the secret, with little prospect of advantage."

"I am not so sure about that," returned Robert. "Do you recall the Dupont mystery?"

Raikes nodded.

"Well," continued Robert, "you must also remember the Belmont scandal.

Gratz certainly let daylight into that."

"Ah," cried Raikes, "I do not like your suggestions; they encourage me and alarm me at the same time. Think of the cost."

Irritated at the intrusion of this frugal proviso at this juncture, Robert exclaimed with some warmth: "Yes, but think, also, how insignificant that would be if he discovered the thief and recovered the money."

"If--if----" repeated Raikes with impatience.

"And I can say this," continued Robert: "It is the ambition of Gratz to be appointed chief of the bureau to which he belongs. Whatever can be placed to his credit in the meantime will serve as an additional reason for his advancement.

"I believe that he would be more persuaded to undertake the case with this prospect in view than for a mercenary reason."

"But," interrupted Raikes, "can you get him?"

"I think I can answer for that," replied Robert. "I know him very well.

If you will consent to leave the matter in my hands, I will attend to Gratz."

"Well," exclaimed Raikes, as Robert concluded, "have it your own way; anything is better than this killing suspense. I do not believe that I could endure a repetition of the incidents of the last few nights. But return the bags before you go, and shut the radiator; it will lock in closing."

When Robert at last reached the dining-room he discovered his aunt at the table, seated opposite the Sepoy.

Instructing the spinster to resume her vigil until his return, Robert proceeded to his own table, and from that point of observation occupied himself, during the next twenty minutes, partly with his breakfast and partly in regarding this illy-assorted duet.

The Sepoy was as gravely urbane as ever; his browns and blacks intermingled harmoniously; his eyes were bright; his teeth still suggestive of restrained sarcasm in their dull, red sheaths, as, with grave courtesy, he made himself agreeable to his companion by abetting her newly-awakened appetite with recommendations of the steak and eulogies of the butter.

The spinster was no longer ravenous; the advantages she had enjoyed during the absence of her domestic Argus had made her cravings more equable, and she accepted the edible suggestions of the Sepoy with an approach to placid satisfaction that hinted at the imminence of repletion.

This disposition to make the most of her privileges, with what composure she could assume, would have added the basis of a serious relapse on the part of the invalid could he have witnessed the phenomenon.

It was remarkable how promptly the poor creature evinced the effects of her nourishment.

Beginning, as already indicated, with a logical indigestion, she progressed to the point of a possible filling out of the crevices of her countenance, and her eyes certainly had lost the expression of appeal characteristic of the mendicant in the doorway.

All this, minutely noted by her watchful nephew, was thoroughly enjoyed with a sort of chuckling collusion and vicarious gratification.

On her return to the invalid she was requested by him to provide whatever nourishment was needed, and then to leave him alone for a couple of hours.