and Wilson went on with his argument.

"Now it's quite clear that something very odd has just happened in
this place. The chances are ten to one, it seems to me, that it had
something specially to do with this place. Probably he came here
because he could do it only here; it doesn't seem very inviting
otherwise. But the man knew it of old; they say it belonged to his
family, so that altogether, I think, everything points to something
in the construction of the tower itself."

"Your reasoning seems to me excellent," said Sir Walter, who was
listening attentively. "But what could it be?"

"You see now what I mean about the ladder," went on the detective;
"it's the only old piece of furniture here and the first thing that
caught that cockney eye of mine. But there is something else. That
loft up there is a sort of lumber room without any lumber. So far as
I can see, it's as empty as everything else; and, as things are, I
don't see the use of the ladder leading to it. It seems to me, as I
can't find anything unusual down here, that it might pay us to look
up there."

He got briskly off the table on which he was sitting (for the only
chair was allotted to Sir Walter) and ran rapidly up the ladder to
the platform above. He was soon followed by the others, Mr. Fisher
going last, however, with an appearance of considerable nonchalance.

At this stage, however, they were destined to disappointment; Wilson
nosed in every corner like a terrier and examined the roof almost in
the posture of a fly, but half an hour afterward they had to confess
that they were still without a clew. Sir Walter's private secretary
seemed more and more threatened with inappropriate slumber, and,
having been the last to climb up the ladder, seemed now to lack the
energy even to climb down again.

"Come along, Fisher," called out Sir Walter from below, when the
others had regained the floor. "We must consider whether we'll pull
the whole place to pieces to see what it's made of."

"I'm coming in a minute," said the voice from the ledge above their
heads, a voice somewhat suggestive of an articulate yawn.

"What are you waiting for?" asked Sir Walter, impatiently. "Can you
see anything there?"

"Well, yes, in a way," replied the voice, vaguely. "In fact, I see
it quite plain now."

"What is it?" asked Wilson, sharply, from the table on which he sat
kicking his heels restlessly.

"Well, it's a man," said Horne Fisher.

Wilson bounded off t