; but
the case begins to look to me like a flam."

"Why, there's plenty outside saw the lady, too, sir," grumbled the
constable.

"Then where is she?"

There was no answer, and the various domestic offices were examined,
everything being in perfect order, and the only exit apparent being
through the area door, which was locked, bolted and barred, as were all
the windows.

"Where does this lead?" said the superintendent, as he entered the
passage farther back. "Another cellar, perhaps." They followed to the
end, one of the men striking a match or two, for the extreme part was
dark. "Humph! locked. Well, that can't be a way out, for there is no
mat." Sniff, sniff! "What's that--powder? and what's that empty
Gladstone doing there?"

Just then the constable who had given the alarm suddenly stepped forward
and stooped down.

"What is it, Dick? One of the straws out of the mare's nest?" said the
superintendent.

For answer, the man drew at something quite low down by the floor, and
it came away in his hand, to prove, on being held to the light of a wax
match, a mere scrap of a handsomely-braided silk dress.

"Ah!" cried the superintendent, showing the first signs of excitement,
"smell of powder--that bit of silk!"

He thumped with his knuckles on the panel of the door, and exclaimed--

"There's an iron inside; dress caught as they passed through, and as the
door was shut the edge cut that off like a pair of shears. There's a
way out here, my lads, and we've got hold of the clue."

It seemed easier to point out the clue than to follow it, for the door
was strong, and it was not until suitable implements had been fetched,
to further excite the crowd, and a sturdy attack made at the end of the
passage, that the outer door gave way, the bolts of the strongly-made
lock being broken right off.

"By George! you've got hold of a case this time, my lad," cried the
superintendent; "but it's an attempt at a big burglary. This isn't a
way out; it's the principal plate-closet, and they've been trying to get
it open, and failed. Hammer leather-covered, wedges, pistols, dark
lantern smashed, tin of powder, and marks on the front of the safe door
where the wedges have been. Powder smells quite strong here. They must
have tried to blast the door open. Out, all of you; they're hiding
somewhere. They can't have got away."

The men turned back, all but the one who had given the alarm, and he had
struck a fresh mat