“The thief?” asked Robert.
“No, the accessory,” was the reply; “but do not ask any further questions; you will be treated to the surprise of your life in a little while, unless I am much mistaken.”
Scarcely had the detective uttered these words when the faint click of a door-latch was borne to their ears from the direction of the stairway they had just descended.
The next moment a dim ray of light flickered into the darkness, and a figure vaguely shadowed its grotesque disproportion on the walls just behind as it crept, with cautious lightness, step by step down the stairs.
At last it reached the floor and moved in the direction of the bin.
The light, which was furnished by a candle, was raised in the air at about the height of a man’s face, and directly behind it a man’s face appeared.
“Great heavens!” whispered Robert as the strange figure advanced, “it is uncle!”
“Steady, now!” whispered the detective; “not a word or you will ruin everything.”
Revealed by the weird light, the miserable countenance of the miser had never looked so contemptible.
The sputtering flame seemed to have the power to betray all the miserly emotions and mean parsimonies usually concealed behind its starved pallor.