"I hope so, too. My opinion is that he's out, and that the brass plate over the keyhole has got there by accident. But Nightingale always makes the worst of things. That's not my way. Wait till the worst comes, I say; it's time enough. You may worrit yourself to death, and be no better off for it after all."
In this strain they continued their conversation, Mrs. Middlemore declaring that it was quite a comfort to have Constable Wigg with her. She confided to him that she had a bit of money saved, and that Mr. Felix had said more than once that he would remember her in his will, which elicited from Constable Wigg the remark that he hoped Mr. Felix had made his will and had behaved as he ought to; "though, mind you," he added, "I don't believe anything's the matter with him, or that he's at home. It's all through that spectre cat, and as for bloodstains, they've got to be proved." A knocking and rattling at the street-door caused Mrs. Middlemore to cling very closely to him, and when she recovered her fright, they both went upstairs to let Constable Nightingale in.
"Is that you, Nightingale?" Constable Wigg called out before he turned the key.
"Yes, it's me," cried Constable Nightingale, without: "don't keep us waiting all night."
"He's got the locksmith with him," whispered Constable Wigg, with his lips very close to Mrs. Middlemore's ear. Then he threw open the street-door.
Constable Nightingale had somebody else with him besides the locksmith. Accompanying them was a tall, thin, gentlemanly-looking, but rather seedy young gentleman, who stepped quickly into the passage.
"Has anything took place?" inquired Constable Nightingale, glancing suspiciously from Constable Wigg to Mrs. Middlemore.
"Nothing," replied Constable Wigg. "There ain't been a sound in the house."
"Just as we turned the corner," said Constable Nightingale, with a motion of his hand toward the seedy young gentleman, "we met Dr. Lamb, who was coming home from a case, and as there's no knowing what might be wanted, I asked him to favor us with his company."
Mrs. Middlemore knew Dr. Lamb, who kept a chemist's shop in the neighborhood, and she gave him a friendly nod. It must have been a trying case that the young gentleman had come from, for he looked particularly shaky, and was rather unsteady on his legs. The locksmith now made some sensible remarks to the effect that he had been awakened from a sound sleep, and would like to get back to bed again; therefore, had they not better get to work at once? His suggestion was acted upon, and they all proceeded upstairs.