His skin felt clammy. He was glad he had the rifle, now.
When he reached the gate, he was running again. Beyond the front lawn, "The Nest" showed dim and whitish through the sheen of rain. And there was no light in the house.
He ran up the path, feeling the breath rasp in his lungs. Whatever this "burglar" might be doing, he would hardly continue it if he heard somebody at the door. Courtney glanced up at the windows of Vicky's bedroom. They were dark, but they might only be curtained.
With a deep wave of thankfulness he pounded up the front steps.
He gave Mrs. Propper's signal, three short rings at the doorbell, and waited.
Nothing stirred in the house. He could hear only the rustling roar of the rain, the rush from a water-spout, the drumming on his own body. The minutes dragged by, and still nothing happened. In desperation, he again gave the signal of three sharp rings, before he realized where the trouble lay.
The doorbell did not work.
Eighteen
He stood back and studied the house.
No doubt about the bell being out of order. It had a distinctive ring which could be heard clearly in the hall and outside.