end of the stock-room. "I must return to the shop. He will suspect at once if I am not at work when he appears,—for appear he will, you may be sure."
He was gone in a second. De Bosky led them into the adjoining room and pointed to a tall step-ladder over in the corner. A trap-door in the ceiling was open, and blackness loomed beyond.
"Go up!" commanded the agitated musician, addressing Trotter. "It is an air-chamber. Don't break your head on the rafters. Follow close behind, Lady Jane. I will hold the ladder. Close the trap after you,—and do not make a sound after you are once up there. This is the jolliest moment of my life! I was never so thrilled. It is beautiful! It is ravishing! Sh! Don't utter a word, I command you! We will foil him,—we will foil old Scotland Yard. Be quick! Splendid! You are wonderful, Mademoiselle. Such courage,—such grace,—such— Sh! I take the ladder away! Ha, he will never suspect. He—"
"But how the deuce are we to get down from here?" groaned Trotter in a penetrating whisper from aloft.
"You can't get down,—but as he can't get up, why bother your head about that? Close the trap!"
"Oh-h!" shuddered Jane, in an ecstasy of excitement. She was kneeling behind her companion, peering down through the square little opening into which he had drawn her a moment before.
Trotter cautiously lowered the trap-door,—and they were in Stygian darkness. She repeated the exclamation, but this time it was a sharp, quick gasp of dismay.
For a long time they were silent, listening for sounds
