Ronny Devereux! Ronny Devereux and Gerry Wade! Both young, both full of life and energy; ordinary, jolly, healthy young men. And now, where were they? Dank earth ... worms getting them.... Ugh! why couldn't he put these horrible thoughts out of his mind?
He looked again at his watch. Twenty minutes past one only. How the time crawled.
Extraordinary girl, Bundle! Fancy having the nerve and the daring actually to get into the midst of that Seven Dials place. Why hadn't he had the nerve and the initiative to think of that? He supposed because the thing was so fantastic.
No. 7. Who the hell could No. 7 be? Was he, perhaps, in the house at this minute? Disguised as a servant. He couldn't, surely, be one of the guests. No, that was impossible. But then, the whole thing was impossible. If he hadn't believed Bundle to be essentially truthful—well, he would have thought she had invented the whole thing.
He yawned. Queer, to feel sleepy, and yet at the same time strung up. He looked again at his watch. Ten minutes to two. Time was getting on.
And then, suddenly, he held his breath and leaned forward, listening. He had heard something.
The minutes went past.... There it was again. The creak of a board.... But it came from downstairs somewhere. There it was again! A slight, ominous creak. Somebody was moving stealthily about the house.
Jimmy sprang noiselessly to his feet. He crept silently to the head of the staircase. Everything seemed perfectly quiet. Yet he was quite certain he had really heard that stealthy sound. It was not imagination.
Very quietly and cautiously he crept down the staircase, Leopold clasped tightly in his right hand. Not a sound in the big hall. If he had been correct in assuming that the muffled sound came from directly beneath him, then it must have come from the library.
Jimmy stole to the door of it, listened, but heard nothing; then, suddenly flinging open the door, he switched on the lights.