her apron, led the way into the house. We followed close behind her. Asking us to wait a moment where we were, she knocked at a door on the right and disappeared within.
"Now," said the inspector, "our man will probably appear, and we shall have him nicely."
He had scarcely spoken before the door through which the servant had passed opened again, and a man came out. To our surprise he was very tall and stout, with a round jovial face, and an air of being well satisfied with himself and the world in general.
"To what do I owe the honour of this visit?" he said, looking at the inspector.
"I am an Inspector of Police, as you see," answered my companion, "and we are looking for a man named Draper, who yesterday was in possession of this house."
"I am afraid you have made some little mistake," returned the other. "I am the occupier of this house, and have been for some months past. No Mr. Draper has anything to do with it."
The inspector's face was a study for perfect bewilderment. Nor could mine have been much else. The Marquis had given such a minute description of the dwelling opposite and the two stone birds on the steps, that there could be no room for doubt that this was the house. And yet it was physically impossible that this man could be Draper; and if it were the place where Beckenham had been drugged where were the weapons, etc., he had described as being in the hall?
"I cannot understand it at all," said the inspector, turning to me. "This is the house, and yet where are the things with which it ought to be furnished?"
"You have a description of the furniture, then?" said the owner. "Ah! that is good, for it will enable
