"Nothing," agreed Ann.
H.M. heaved a gusty sigh.
"All right, then. Cut along home. I'm goin' home myself to do a little sittin' and thinkin' while I dictate."
Five minutes later, the front door closed behind Courtney and H.M. The latter turned down the brim of his Panama hat all round. His companion thought he was going to start towards the gate. Instead he heard the rattle of a match box, and saw a small flame spring up.
H.M. lumbered to the side of the lawn. Holding up the match, he bent down to inspect a flower-bed under the first-floor balcony. The tiny flame showed two large footprints stamped into the soil.
H.M. turned, the match-flame glinting evilly on his spectacles.
"Uh-huh," he said. "I thought so. I thought I saw you duck. Now are you goin' to tell me what really' happened up in that bedroom;" or is even my biographer mixed up in this funny business?"
Up over their heads, a shadow stirred in the moonlight.
They did not see it.