d as he realized his danger. The rustle of the bank notes in his
breast pocket afforded him a momentary relief as he remembered that they
would give him a fresh start in case he had to flee from England. Then a
sudden thought lightened the gloom still more, and he clutched eagerly
at the ray of hope thus thrown out.

"Hawker was too shrewd a man to be caught unawares," he reasoned. "He
kept the papers in a secure hiding-place, and he certainly would not
have taken them from it until I came and he saw the color of the money.
Nor is it likely that the police found them, though they must have
searched the place. If they are still in the room, why should I not try
to get possession of them? I could square up with Hawker afterward, when
he recovers his liberty. By Jove, it's worth risking!"

Nevill walked as far as Peckwater street, debating the question. He did
not hesitate long, for there was too much at stake. He quickly made up
his mind, and retraced his steps to the dingy house from which the
detectives had taken their prisoner. He had planned his course of
procedure when the door opened to his knock, and Mrs. Miggs revealed her
distrustful countenance. Nevill tendered her half a sovereign on the
spot, and asked to see the room lately occupied by Mr. Noah Hawker.

"It's a private matter," he explained. "Yes, I know that Mr. Hawker has
just been arrested and taken away. District detectives did that--they
were onto him for some breach of the law. I was after him myself, with
a Scotland Yard warrant, but I arrived too late, unfortunately."

"Then what do you want?" grumbled the woman.

"I want to search Hawker's room for some papers which I believe he hid
there. If I find them you shall be rewarded."

Mrs. Miggs relaxed visibly. She had a wholesome respect for the police,
and she did not doubt that Nevill was other than he purported to be--a
Scotland Yard officer. She let him into the hall and closed the door.

"You can come up," she said ungraciously, "but I don't think there's
anything there."

She lighted a candle and guided Nevill upstairs. He could scarcely
restrain his excitement as he entered the little room. He glanced keenly
about, noting the half-empty bottle of stout and the dirty glass.

"Did the police search here?" he inquired.

"Of course they did, but they didn't find nothin', 'cause there wasn't
anything to find. 'Awker was as poor as Job!"

"They examined his person?--his clothes, I mean?"

"