Now it was the eastern wing or gable which sheltered the library, the conservatory, and Mr. Page's bedroom, and it was thither the second man's foot-prints led. I followed them round the corner of the house.
From their appearance it was easy to trace all the mysterious intruder's movements. Evidently after the door had closed behind the first arrival, Number Two had stood for some time at the east end of the porch. Then he had moved toward the same end of the house, pausing at every window and trying the sash to ascertain whether it was fastened. Turning at the corner, he had proceeded along the side of the house, still testing the windows and bestowing particular attention upon the glass conservatory. This was true of every window as far as the bedroom, at least; beyond that I did not explore. Just as I drew opposite the first of the bedroom windows I came to an abrupt halt.
There was a light in the room.
Nor was this all. Some person was in the room, too, and by the silhouette on the blind I could see that he was industriously applying himself to some task, the nature of which I could not determine. The longer I watched the shadow on the blind, the more puzzled I grew. I could imagine no occupation that would account for such singular actions.
The shadow was a man's; I could distinguish that much. He appeared to be bending over something, while his hands flew hither and thither, as if they were performing a quick-step upon a piano. But no sound of music came from the lighted room.
It would be impossible to say how long I stood there, the snow nearly to my knees, fascinated by the remarkable antics of that shadow. Then of a sudden the hands ceased flying. The man straightened and became motionless, as if startled by some unexpected sound.
Well, perhaps within the next second he knew what had alarmed him; I 'm sure that I did not. The shadow flashed away from the blind. Then my scalp tingled and the blood seemed to freeze in my veins.
From within the room there came a most unearthly cry. It was weird, terrifying, utterly unlike anything I had ever heard—save once. For it was a repetition of the wild, inhuman note that had thrilled me when I first dashed open the bath room door the previous night.
The terrible cry was not immediately repeated, but for a while the utmost confusion prevailed within. I could hear furniture knocked and slammed about, a tumult of stamping, scraping feet, and once—for the briefest moment—another shadow was projected upon the blind.
It was a hideous, squat, dwarfish shadow. Two long gorilla-like arms were upraised in an abandonment of fury. Then came that awful, blood-curdling scream again, and the shadow's owner seemed to plunge headlong forward.