He listened for a moment. It was a wild night, and the rain was pouring down heavily. The detective and his assistants were in the Square, waiting upon his summons. Nothing but the plashing of the rain was to be heard; no other sound fell upon his ears from within or without. The murderer was working warily in the room above; he himself would be as wary. Cunning for cunning, silence for silence, a life for a life.
“You murderous villain!” murmured Frederick. “Were it not that I dare not stain my soul with a crime, you should not live another hour!”
In his stocking-feet he crept from the kitchen, and stepped noiselessly up-stairs. In his hushed movements was typified the retribution which waits upon the man who sheds the blood of a human being.
As he ascended the stairs which led to the first floor he was made aware, by the sound of a man moving softly in the room in which his father had been murdered, that Pelham was at work. In a few moments Frederick Holdfast was at the door, listening.
Before he turned the handle, he looked through the key-hole to mark the exact spot upon which Pelham stood, so that he might seize him the instant he entered the room. To his surprise he saw two persons in the room—Pelham bending over the floor boards he had torn up, and the form of a man lying on the bed.
He could not see the face of the recumbent man; the face of Pelham was clearly visible.
It was not, then, man to man. There were two to one. Justice might be defeated were he to risk the unequal encounter. He determined to call in the assistance of the officers in the Square.
But before he left the house, which was being watched from the front and the back, it would be as well to make sure of the murderer and his companion, so that they should have no possible means of escape. He took from his pocket the key of the room, which he had picked up a few hours ago; with a steady hand he inserted it in the lock, and gently turned it, being unable to prevent the sound of a slight click. Then he crept noiselessly down stairs, opened the street door, closed it softly behind him, and stepping into the road, put a whistle to his lips.
The summons was not instantly obeyed, and he blew the whistle again, and looked anxiously around. The faint sound of another whistle presently answered him, and in two or three minutes the detective was by his side.
“I was at the back of the house, sir,” said the detective, in apology, “giving directions to one of my men, Parrock, a sharp fellow. You have discovered something,” he added, noting Frederick’s agitation.