Becky, placing her fingers to her lips went to the basement stairs and called:
“Fanny!”
The child appeared immediately, and Becky whispered in her ear for a few moments. Fanny nodded, and crept softly upstairs in the direction of the garret occupied by Richard Manx.
“We are safe,” said Becky to the detective. “Richard Manx cannot hear what we say. Fanny is keeping watch on him.”
“Fanny’s a clever little thing,” said the detective admiringly; “I’d like a daughter with her wits. Now, Miss, keep in your mind what I am going to tell you—not that there’s any need for me to say that. You are working for Mr. Frederick, as I am, and others with me. A watch is going to be set outside this house—and if it’s done as well as the watch you’ve kept inside the house, we shan’t have any reason to grumble. In what room does the old bedridden lady, Mrs. Bailey sleep?”
“In the first floor back,” replied Becky.
“Is the first floor front open? Can you get into the room?”
“Yes, I have the key.”
“That’s the room, isn’t it?” said the detective, stepping back and looking up. “There’s a balcony before the window.”
“Yes.”