There was a sharp click, and the hand came
back.
"There you are," he said, threw the door open, and stood aside for
his superior officer to lead the way.
"What's wrong?" Simmonds asked.
"I don't know--but the girl showed a light at her window."
"You heard nothing?"
"Not a sound."
Simmonds hesitated. No doubt the same thought occurred to him as to
me; for the lawyer-Tartarin in me suggested that we scarcely had
warrant to break our way into a sleeping house in the middle of the night.
But no such doubts seemed to disturb Godfrey. Without a word, he
caught the torch from Simmonds's hand, and passed through the doorway.
Simmonds followed, I went next, and the two other men came last, their
torches also flaring. Three beams of light flashed about the library
and showed it to be empty. One of them--Godfrey's--lingered on the
high-backed chair, but this time it had no occupant.
Then Godfrey switched on the light, passed into the hall and switched
on the light there. The hall, too, was empty, and only the ticking of
a tall clock disturbed the silence. I was faltering and ready to turn
back, but, to my amazement, Godfrey crossed the hall at a bound and
sprang up the stair, three steps at a time.
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