lost all the fingers of his left hand, and we have evidence of the fact
that the vengeance has been worked out in the same mysterious fashion as
it was worked out on the Dutchman. We know, too, who is at the bottom of
the plot, we know that the cripple could tell us all about it if he
liked. Obviously, this same cripple is a deadly enemy of Fenwick's. And,
no doubt, Fenwick has found out where to lay his hands upon his man quite
recently. Fenwick is a clever man, he is bold and unscrupulous, and
without question he set to work at once to get the better of the cripple.
Of course, this may be nothing but a wrong theory of mine, and it may
lead us astray, but it is all I can see to work upon at present."

"I don't think you are very far wrong," Gurdon said, "but I am still
puzzled about the house in Portsmouth Square."

"Which house do you mean?" Venner asked.

"The one in which my adventure took place. The house from which the
furniture vanished so mysteriously."

"That seems to me capable of an easy explanation," Venner replied. "There
is no doubt that the man called Bates and the cripple are one and the
same person. You must admit that."

"Yes, I admit that freely enough. Go on."

"Well, this Bates, as we will call him, has a large establishment at 75,
Portsmouth Square. The house next door was empty, possibly it belonged to
Mr. Bates. He had a whim for furnishing a room or two in an empty house,
or perhaps there was some more sinister purpose behind it. Anyway, after
you had blundered on the place and had taken your life in your hands, it