“No,” replied Frederick.
“Ah, he will be presently,” said the detective; “he doesn’t commence till he thinks everybody’s asleep, and Mrs. Preedy has only been home for about ten minutes. She’s as fond of a gossip as a cat is of mice. She’s had an extra glass, I think. Are you quite comfortable, sir?”
“Quite,” said Frederick, and put an end to the conversation by wishing the detective good night.
“He’s a plucky one,” mused the detective, as he resumed his watch; “but he’s working for a prize worth winning.”
The food in the basket was sufficient for one man’s wants for nearly a week, and Frederick, partaking of a little, went softly upstairs to the drawing room. He took the precaution of locking the door, and, mounting the table, waited for events.
He had not long to wait. At half-past one Richard Manx entered the room in which Mr. Holdfast had been murdered.
Frederick did not instantly recognise him, his disguise was so perfect, but when he removed his wig, the watcher saw his enemy, Pelham, before him.
The wronged and persecuted man had schooled himself well. Though his heart beat furiously and his blood grew hot, he suffered no sound to escape him. He had fully made up his mind, in the event of Richard Manx discovering a document, to steal upon him unaware, and wrest it from him. He did not doubt his power to do as much; in physical strength he was the match of three such men as Pelham. His chief anxiety, in the event of anything being discovered, was that it should not be destroyed.
Richard Manx used no precaution in the method of entering the room, except that he placed his candle upon the floor in such a way that its reflection could not reach the window, which opened at the back of the house. This lack of precaution was in itself a sufficient proof that his search had been long continued, and was a proof also that he considered himself safe in the deserted house.
He was evidently in a discontented mood; he looked around the room sullenly and savagely, but in this expression Frederick detected a certain helplessness and fear which denoted that he was ill at ease. That he was growing tired of his task was clear, for he resumed it with an impatience and a want of system which might have prevented its successful accomplishment, even if he were on the threshold of discovery. Frederick, from his point of observation, had an uninterrupted view of his proceedings. He had brought with him a quantity of tools, and by the aid of these he set to work removing the flooring boards, with but little noise, one after another, searching eagerly in the rubbish beneath. With no success, however. Every now and then, as though tired of this part of his search, he rose, and examined the furniture in the room, suspicious that some hiding place might have escaped him. He muttered as he worked, but for a time his mutterings did not reach Frederick’s ears. After more than an hour’s labour, he took from a cupboard a bottle of spirits and a glass, and helped himself liberally. Then, dirty and begrimed as he was, and with beads of perspiration on his face, he sat down and consulted a pocket book, in which he added up a number of figures. “Five hundred,” he said in a low tone, “seven-fifty, eight hundred, a thousand, twelve hundred, fourteen hundred and twenty.” He came to the end of his reckoning, and glared at the figures as at a mortal enemy. Then from the same pocket-book he took out a packet of bank notes, and counted them over till he reached the total, fourteen hundred and twenty. Frederick held the true key to these proceedings. The sum of fourteen hundred and twenty pounds represented the whole of Mr. Pelham’s wealth, the payment and reward of a life of villainy, and perhaps of blood.