"Of course, I haven't," Gurdon said, a little hotly. "Would there be two
houses close together, both of them with a broken grating over the
cellar? I tell you this is the same house right enough. It was just in
this particular spot I was seated when the lights went out, and your
wife's fertility of resource saved my life. It may be possible that the
electric fuses have not yet been repaired. At any rate, I'll see."

Gurdon laid his hand upon the switch and snapped it down. No light came;
the solitary illuminating point in the room was afforded by the match
which Venner held in his hand.

"There," Gurdon said, with a sort of gloomy triumph. "Doesn't that
prove it? I suppose that our cripple took alarm and has cleared out of
the house."

"That's all very well, but it is almost impossible to remove the
furniture of a great place like this in the course of a day."

"My dear chap, I don't think it has been removed in the course of a
day. Didn't you notice just now what a tremendous lot of dust we
stirred up as we were going over the house? My theory is this--only
three or four of the rooms were furnished, and the rest of the house
was closed. When I made my escape last night, the cripple must have
taken alarm and gone away from here as speedily as possible. What
renders the whole thing more inexplicable is the fact that your wife
could explain everything if she pleased. But after a check-mate like
this, I don't see the slightest reason for staying here any longer. The
best thing we can do is to get back to my rooms and discuss the matter
over a whiskey and soda and cigar. But, talking about cigars, will you