“I have never heard one in my life,” he answered. “This is quite a modern house.”
De Grost dropped his match-box and stooped to pick it up.
“Any lights on anywhere, except in this room?” he asked.
“Certainly not,” Monsieur de Lamborne answered. “It is past three o’clock, and every one has gone to bed.”
The Baron rose and softly unbolted the door. The passage outside was in darkness. He listened intently, for a moment, and returned, yawning.
“One fancies things,” he murmured, apologetically.
“For example?” De Lamborne demanded.
The Baron shook his head.
“One mistakes,” he declared. “The nerves become over sensitive.”
The dawn broke and the awakening hum of the city grew louder and louder. De Grost rose and stretched himself.