"Never a one, sir," Terence replied. "I kept my eyes and ears open all night, and waited about after dark, but there's not been so much as a mouse stirring."
"I am glad to hear it," Jim remarked, and then gave Terence a brief description of his visit to London, and of what he had discovered there.
"Then if it wasn't he as did it," said Terence, "who could it have been?"
Before he answered, Jim looked at the door, as if to make sure that it was closed.
"Terence," he said, "I am gradually coming to the conclusion that the Black Dwarf, whoever he may be, was responsible for it."
"I've thought of that myself, sir," Terence replied.
"In the first place, he was seen by one of the maid-servants in the gallery on the night that my father was murdered."
"Don't they say, sir, as how another gentleman was murdered in the same way in this house?"
"I believe there is some legend to that effect," said Jim, "but how true it is, I cannot say. I don't think, however, we need take that circumstance into consideration."
"Then what are we to do, sir?"