He didn’t stop. He didn’t reply. He went across the small anteroom and out of the open green door.
But he had made a lot of noise. A big man with the fear of the supernatural chilling his very soul does not tread lightly.
A frightened ox in the place could have made no more noise. He tumbled over two chairs and finally went full length over an old hassock. He brought up with an awful crash against the big davenport in the corridor, where ’Phemie had tried to keep watch.
And there, when he tried to scramble up, he got entangled in ’Phemie’s quilt and went to the floor again just as a great light flashed into the corridor.
The Colesworths’ door stood open. Out dashed Harris in his pajamas and a robe. He fell upon the big body of Spink as though he were making a “tackle” in a football game.
“Hold him! hold him!” gasped ’Phemie.
“I’ve got him,” declared Harris. “What’s the matter, Miss ’Phemie?”
“He’s got the key,” explained ’Phemie. “Make him give it up.”
“Sure!” said Harris, and dexterously twitched the entangled Spink over on his back.
“By jove!” gasped the young man, standing up. “It’s the professor!”