men, is the Science Museum, containing--so I have heard, I have never
been near the place myself--two stuffed rats, a case of mouldering
butterflies, and other objects of acute interest. The room has a
staircase all to itself, and this was the reason why, directly I heard
shouts proceeding from that staircase, I deduced that they came from
the Museum. I am like Sherlock Holmes, I don't mind explaining my
methods.

'Help!' shouted the voice. 'Help!'

The voice was Bradshaw's.

Mellish was talking to M. Gerard, the French master, at the moment. He
had evidently been telling him of Bradshaw's non-appearance, for at the
sound of his voice they both spun round, and stood looking at the
staircase like a couple of pointers.

'Help,' cried the voice again.

Mellish and Gerard bounded up the stairs. I had never seen a French
master run before. It was a pleasant sight. I followed. As we reached
the door of the Museum, which was shut, renewed shouts filtered through
it. Mellish gave tongue.

'Bradshaw!'

'Yes, sir,' from within.

'Are you there?' This I thought, and still think, quite a superfluous
question.