he began to think that something must be wrong, for here, hanging up against their number on the board, were the only two keys of 11 Massingham that there are supposed to be. He put the keys in his pocket and went on to Massingham. Green, the resident porter there, told him that he hadn't been into No. 11 for a week. What was more, no one had passed the outer door, in or out, for a good half-hour. He knew that, because the door 'springs' with a noise when it is opened, no matter how carefully. So the two of them went up. The door of No. 11 was locked and inside everything was as it should be. There was no light then, and after looking well round with the lanterns that they carried they were satisfied that no one was concealed there."
"You say lanterns," interrupted Mr Carlyle. "I suppose they lit the gas, or whatever it is there, as well?"
"It is gas, but they could not light it because it was cut off at the meter. We always cut it off when a flat becomes vacant."
"What sort of a light was it, then, that Willett saw?"
"It was gas, Mr Carlyle. It is possible to see the bracket in that room from 75 Northanger. He saw it burning."
"Then the meter had been put on again?"
"It is in a locked cupboard in the basement. Only the office and the porters have keys. They tried the gas in the room and it was dead out; they looked at the meter in the basement afterwards and it was dead off."
"Very good," observed Mr Carlyle, noting the facts in his pocket-book. "What next?"
"The next," continued the clerk, "was something that had really happened before. When they got down again—Green and Willett—Green was rather chipping
