"To leave it in an untidy state?" Jim put in.
"Of course she would not, sir," the other replied. "She would hear of it from the housekeeper if she did. No, she's a nice, steady girl, sir, and I'm told she does her work to the best of her ability."
"Well, it seems curious that when I entered the room after you had left me, I found it in a state of the wildest confusion. The contents of the drawers of the dressing-table were lying scattered upon the floor, as were the dresses in the wardrobe. Now I feel quite certain in my own mind that it was from Miss Alice's bedroom that the figure I saw emerged. I am equally sure of one thing, and that is that it is no ghost—at least," and he added this with a smile, "no respectable ghost, of course, would dream of playing such tricks with a lady's wearing apparel."
"Then, sir, whom do you suspect?" Wilkins enquired. "I can assure you that none of the staff would dare to take such a liberty."
"I am quite sure of that," Jim replied. "Yet the fact remains that somebody must be, and is, responsible for it. Now what I intend to do is to lay myself out to capture that somebody, and to make an example of him when I have got him. For that reason, Terence, I am going to ask you to sleep in the house, in the room next to that occupied by Miss Alice. It will go hard, then, if between us we cannot lay our hands upon the gentleman, whoever he may be, who is playing these tricks upon us."
Terence willingly agreed to the proposal, and that night occupied the room in question. His watchfulness availed him nothing, however, for no further sign of the Black Dwarf.
Next morning Robins received the photograph of Murbridge, and from that moment Jim awaited tidings from him in a fever of expectation. Day after day, however, went by, and still no good news came to reward his patience. The only consolation he derived was from sundry mysterious interviews which he had with Helen in a wooded corner of the park. With the cunning of lovers they had arranged a plan of meeting, and those little tête-à-têtes were to Jim as the breath of life. No sooner was one at an end than he hungered for the next. But he was destined ere long to receive a fright, such as he had never received in his life before. Winter was fast approaching, and the afternoons drew in quickly. When he reached the rendezvous on this occasion it was nearly five o'clock, and almost dark. Helen had arrived there before him, and he discovered her pacing up and down the little glade, in what was plainly an agitated frame of mind.
"Oh, I am so thankful that you have come, Jim dear," she said, as she came forward to greet him. "I have been counting the minutes until I should see you."
"Why, what on earth is the matter?" he asked, placing his arm round her waist and drawing her to him. "You are excited about something. Tell me, dear, what it is."
"Something so dreadful that it has upset me terribly," she answered. "I scarcely know how to tell you."