Raikes complied with a statement of his careful precautions; the watch of his sister upon the doorway during his absence, and his visits to the room of the Sepoy.

"The Sepoy?" inquired Gratz. "Why do you call him that?"

"On account of his swarthy complexion, his bright eyes, and his general alien aspect," replied Robert.

"Describe him to me as carefully as you can," said Gratz.

When Robert had concluded his brief delineation, Raikes hastened to inquire: "Why do you ask about him so particularly? He could no more enter my room, under the conditions I have described to you, than you could."

"I realize that," admitted the detective, "but I gather from what you have just said that you visit this Sepoy, as you call him, with some degree of regularity. May I ask if you have business transactions with him?"

"I have not," replied Raikes.

Then, in response to the unchanging look of inquiry in the countenance of the detective, he added:

"The Sepoy has been telling me an extraordinary story. It has been too elaborate to confine to one sitting, and my purpose in re-visiting him was to get at the conclusion. It is most interesting, and apparently interminable."

"Would you object to relating it to me?" inquired Gratz.

"Heavens!" cried Raikes, aghast at the prospect of the extended effort which this would impose upon him. "Is it necessary?"

"I would not be surprised," replied Gratz. "At any rate, if your story is more mysterious than the predicament which confronts us, it must be worth hearing."

With an ill grace, after making the elaborate arrangements which usually precede a protracted campaign, Raikes hastened to comply with the request of the detective.

As he proceeded, he was startled to note, now that he made his first conscious effort to review the weird recital of the Sepoy, just how vividly the incidents presented themselves.

Aside from the phraseology, he recounted, in precise order, the incredible incidents, and by the time he had reached the climax in the first division of his effort his hearers were interested enough to hasten through a light meal, which, at the suggestion of Gratz, had been sent to the room they occupied.

With something of the calculation of the Sepoy, or remembering, perhaps, the effect which his abrupt terminations had upon him, Raikes contrived his irritating pauses with remorseless enjoyment and the ostensible purpose of stimulating his sorely taxed energies with draughts of brandy and water.

In this way Raikes consumed the time until the hour of eleven, which enabled him to develop the narrative to the point at which the Sepoy had concluded.

"And now," exclaimed Raikes with unmistakable relief, as he signified that his hearers were in possession of all he knew, "and now will you kindly tell me what you expect to gain by this tedious task you have imposed upon me?"

Gratz did not reply at once, but after a few moments of reflection, he asked, apparently ignoring the question of the narrator: "Will you give me the keys of this building you occupy, and indicate to me the means of rummaging about the other building on the opposite side of the wall?"

"If it is necessary," replied Raikes with grudging assent.

"Why else should I make the request?" suggested Gratz with emotionless directness of speech and a momentary gleam of the eyes.

"True!" responded Raikes.

"Now," exclaimed Gratz, when the various keys were placed in his hand, "you can sleep in peace to-night, and bolt your doors with all the assurance in the world, for I guarantee that your property will be undisturbed."

Then turning to Robert, he said: "I want you to guide me for a short while, and as soon as I get my bearings you can retire."

At this the two bade the thoroughly exhausted Raikes good-night and departed from the room, which the miser hastily secured with his usual precautions.

Without, Robert soon discovered that his services were no longer required, and at the suggestion of the detective he retired, after indicating to this curious official that when he had concluded his investigations he would find a cot in his room which he was at liberty to occupy.

As dawn began to make its appearance on the ensuing morning, Robert was disturbed by a curious dream.

He appeared to be alone upon a fragile raft in the midst of a destructive sea.

Bit by bit the hastily joined structure upon which he rode the waters so insecurely began to disintegrate, until but one scarcely sufficing plank remained.

To this, however, he clung with rapidly failing strength, shouting at intervals with what vim remained, in an attempt to attract the attention of the keepers of the light, not far away.

But with devilish perversity, an immense fog-horn sent forth a heavy blast seaward precisely at the moments he raised his voice.

No matter how far apart or how near he planned the intervals, he was bound to coincide with the deafening horn.

At last in despair he desisted in his efforts, and the monster horn, with hoarse mockery, continued its grewsome noises at dismal intervals, until one, more stentorian than the others, caused the very tempest to hush, and Robert awoke to discover Gratz the cause of his fictitious misery, sleeping upon the cot near the foot of his bed, emitting a series of snores which had managed to communicate their odious telepathy to his slumbering consciousness.

As this singular being lay there in the relaxation and undisguise to which the most diplomatic must submit at times, his countenance, so impassive in his wakeful hours, depicted singular lines of determination.

An expression of tense anxiety contracted his features; resolution held the thin lips in rigid partnership; there was a hint of purpose in the solitary wrinkle which corrugated his forehead; the general aspect was impressive, its suggestion indefatigable.

In this paradoxical fashion, the emotions, concealed during the day, revealed themselves at night.

What in others would have concluded in a vacant mien and colorless repose, in him expressed all that he was so sedulous to conceal.

Scarcely had Robert placed his feet upon the floor when Gratz opened his eyes, awakened partly by the sounds of rising and partly by his tumult of snores, and in an instant the flaccid mask descended over his face, and Gratz was his apathetic self again.

"Well?" inquired Robert.

"You have said it," replied Gratz; "it is well."

"You have succeeded, then?" demanded Robert breathlessly.

"I believe so; but do not question me further just now. I want to see your uncle before I go."

A few moments later the two presented themselves before the closed door leading to the apartment occupied by Raikes, whom they fancied they could hear stirring about within.

In answer to their raps, he opened the door and they entered.

"What news?" demanded Raikes.

"The best, I hope; but I will not communicate it to you until to-morrow morning."

"Ah!" exclaimed Raikes with manifest disappointment.

"But," continued Gratz, as he noted the expression on the face of the other, "at that time I fancy that I shall not only have solved the mystery but I will also secure the thief."

"Do you know him, then?" asked Raikes.

"You are wrong," replied Gratz. "Unless I am seriously mistaken, there are two."