young man on the beam, blinking rapidly in the unaccustomed glare.
Mr. Chambers rested his elbows on the ledge. The light of the lantern shone full on his face, revealing the slow but sure growth of a joyous grin.
"Permit me to introduce myself, your lordship. Mr. Alfred Chambers, of—"
"I know,—I know!" broke in the other impatiently. "What the devil do you want?"
"Good evening. Miss Emsdale," said Mr. Chambers, remembering his manners. "That is to say,—your ladyship. 'Pon my word, you can't possibly be more surprised than I am,—either of you. I shouldn't have dreamed of looking in this—this stuffy hole for—for anything except bats." He chortled.
"I can't understand why some one below there doesn't knock that ladder from under you," said Mr. Trotter rudely.
"I was on the point of giving up in despair," went on Mr. Chambers, unoffended. "You know, I shouldn't have thought of looking up here for you."
His quarry bethought himself of the loyal, conspiring friends below.
"See here, Mr. Chambers," he began earnestly, "I want you to understand that those gentlemen downstairs are absolutely innocent of any criminal complicity in—"
"I understand perfectly," interrupted the man from Scotland Yard. "Perfectly. And the same applies to her ladyship. Everything's as right as rain, your lordship. Will you be so good, sir, as to come down at once?"
