"Hark!" said Stanley. "There's somebody in the hall; it's probably the butler shutting up for the night."
They both listened, and a peculiar, shuffling, scraping sound became audible.
"That's a curious noise," said the Secretary. "Let's see what it means," and, suiting the action to the word, he threw open the smoking-room door.
The light in the hall was turned out, and the sombre black oak panelling made the great apartment seem darker than it really was. Absolute stillness reigned. It was, to all appearance, empty.
"Must have been rats," said the Secretary. "Everyone seems to have retired."
"Have they?" said Kent-Lauriston.
"Listen!"
And both could have sworn that they heard, far up the hall, the dying rustle of a skirt. But there were some things that Stanley had no wish to know, and he set his face and his steps towards the stairs, continuing:—
"As I was saying, we are the only people up.
"Then we'd better go to bed."