He was
raising himself, to peer, cautiously, over the top of the door. I did
likewise.
The window from which the girl had looked was nearly on a level with
our eyes, and as I raised my head above the woodwork, I quite
distinctly saw her go out of the room. The door, as she opened it,
admitted a dull light, against which her figure showed silhouetted for
a moment. Then the door was reclosed.
"We must risk the other windows," rapped Smith.
Before I had grasped the nature of his plan, he was over and had
dropped almost noiselessly upon the casks outside. Again I followed
his lead.
"You are not going to attempt anything, single-handed--against _him_?"
I asked.
"Petrie--Eltham is in that house. He has been brought here to be put
to the question, in the mediaeval, and Chinese, sense! Is there time to
summon assistance?"
I shuddered. This had been in my mind, certainly, but so expressed it
was definitely horrible--revolting, yet stimulating.
"You have the pistol," added Smith; "follow closely, and quietly."
He walked across the tops of the casks and leapt down, pointing to
that nearest to the closed door of the house. I helped him place it
under the open window. A second we set beside it, and, not without
some noise, got a third on top.
Smith mounted.
His jaw muscles were very prominent and his eyes shone like steel; but
he was as cool as though he were about to enter a theatre and not the
den of the most stupendous genius who ever worked for evil.
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