Mr. Somers-Keyne sank back with a sigh of content.
'Very shorry,' he murmured. 'Tree'sh awfully annoyed with me. Promished go down and shee him sh'evening.'
'Is this fellow one of your helpers?' Lavendale asked.
She nodded.
'In a small way. Never mind, we don't need him to-night. Come here.'
She led him to the side of the wall nearest the adjoining apartment. Her fingers felt about the pattern of the paper. Presently she found a crack, pushed for a moment and a sliding door rolled back. She stretched out her hand through the darkness and turned a small knob. A wardrobe door swung outwards. They looked into the shadowy obscurity of the adjoining room. Lavendale whistled softly.
'This is all very well,' he said, 'but how can we watch Jules whilst the door is closed?'
She pointed to two or three little ventilation holes near the top of the wardrobe. Lavendale applied his eye to one of them and nodded.
'That's all right,' he admitted. 'There's just enough light. Listen!'
They could both of them hear the quick, eager footsteps of a man lightly shod, stealthy, ascending the last flight of stairs. Her fingers gripped his arm for a moment. An excitement more poignant than any begotten by their hazardous adventure suddenly thrilled him. The greatest adventure of all was at hand....