Still there was no sound.
Cautiously he peered out. The hall was empty.
Noiselessly he crawled to the stair-head and looked down. He could see no one. But where were Pachmann's men—hiding somewhere in the hall below, waiting for him to appear....
He drew back with a little exclamation, for from somewhere below came the groan of a man in pain.
For a moment Crochard sat with bewildered face, trying to understand. Then he sprang to his feet and went rapidly from door to door in the upper hall. All of them were armed with heavy outside bolts, but only one was fastened. He drew the bolts and opened the door a crack.
"Is any one here?" he asked.
There was no response, and, feeling for the switch, he turned on the lights and looked in. The room was empty. But in an instant his eye had seen three details—the shattered furniture, the disordered bed, the open window.
At the window, the corner of a sheet was tied securely to a hinge of the heavy shutter, which had been pried open. Crochard touched it thoughtfully and nodded. Then he peered down into the well-like court on which the window opened. But he could see no movement there.
He retraced his steps to the hall, and again peered cautiously from the stair-head, and again heard that dismal groaning.
"Come," he murmured; "there is not much to fear from that fellow!" and he resolutely descended, eyes alert, pistol in hand. Halfway down, he stopped in amazement, for the front door swung wide open. But at last he finished the descent and looked about him.