The men stared at him in a species of stupefaction, then the one whom he had addressed as Murphy spoke with a gasp:
“Why, inspector, we have been round the house all night—every means of egress watched. And yet—here you are!”
“Umph! You didn't see me come out, did you?” the inspector said gruffly. “Never mind, Murphy, you are not to blame. What have you to report?”
Murphy saluted.
“Nothing, sir. No one has come in or out since you were admitted last night.”
“Good!” The inspector turned to Steadman. “Now, I think we will go in again by the front door, sir. And come out the same way this time, I hope. Murphy, bring six of your best men along, and post others all round the house. We shall probably have to rush it.”
He and Steadman walked on, realizing to the full how stiff and bruised their limbs were as they went. Once the inspector spat out a couple of teeth. Steadman's sides and back felt absolutely raw. His borrowed clothes chafed them unbearably.
The cul-de-sac looked absolutely quiet and deserted when they entered it. The inspector's thunderous knock at the door roused the echoes all round, but it brought no reply. In the meantime Murphy and his men had marched in behind them.
The inspector knocked again. This time as they listened they heard lumbering steps coming down the passage. There was a great withdrawal of bolts and unlocking of locks and the door was opened a very little way, just enough to allow a man's face, heavy, unshaven, to peer forth.
“Now what is the—all this 'ere noise abaht?” a rough voice demanded.